We All Move In Circles
by Shelbie's Whatchamacallit
Summary: And sometimes it's better than going nowhere at all, some skeletons just won't stay in the closet.   Arthur/OC. Pretty well totally Arthur-centric. M in case I feel naughty.
1. Clockwise, Chapter 1

**We All Move in Circles**

**Clockwise, Chapter 1**

The apartment was dark, save for the blue-ish light emitted by the open laptop on the desk. Silly girl had left her computer on again, probably all night. He glanced at his watch. Four a.m. If he knew her, and he did, he would say she had probably sat down to write at around six, when she got home from work, and then around ten had drifted off on the couch, telling herself that she was just going to have some coffee and rest her eyes while she thought of the next chapter, though she had only completed a paragraph. His curiosity got the better of him, and he looked at the screen before shutting the poor overworked computer down. A sly little grin made its way to his face. Another story. She had started over. Again. And it looked like he was the hero. Again. Of course, no one would ever know that, except for the two of them. No wonder she had fallen asleep. Starting out was always the hardest part for her.

He turned on the desk lamp with a twist of his wrist, and found that he was correct. Cold cup of coffee on the end table, her legs still partially off the couch, still fully dressed, with her lovely brunette head cuddled up against the purple throw pillow which he absolutely loathed. Not that he had anything against her choice in decorating, it was very tasteful, he just could not stand the fabric the pillow was made out of. Faux silk. He hated the stuff.

He sat on the edge of the couch, his lower back against her stomach. So warm…she was always so warm. It was something he desperately missed. He stroked her hair, his hand hesitating before he dared to touch her.

"Valerie. Valerie, you fell asleep on the couch again." Her face scrunched up into a terribly endearing expression, then smoothed out again as she turned her face toward him, but she didn't open her eyes.

"Is this a dream?" She asked sleepily.

"No. Not this time."

"Hm." Her mouth curved into the tiniest of smiles. "I dream about you so often, I can hardly tell what's real anymore. How do I know it's really real?"

"You're breaking my heart. You mean to say I'm not as good as the dream version of me you keep?"

"Well, you're far more sarcastic than he is at least." She said, with a giggle, opening her bright green eyes to look up at him. She raised a hand, laying her palm against his face. He put his hand over hers, leaning in to the feeling of her soft hand. God, how he missed the sensation of touch. It could be nearly perfectly recreated, sometimes, but there was nothing that compared to the feeling of Valerie. "Welcome back, Arthur."

"I…I missed you. So much." He pulled her hand to his lips, kissing her fingertips lightly.

"I missed you too." She sat up, slowly, and wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face against his shoulder, inhaling. "Yep. That's you. I make my dream version wear different cologne."

"Clever girl." He murmured in her ear. They both knew that she could tell the difference in a heartbeat, cologne or not. She really was a very clever girl.

"It's a little early, but do you want breakfast? Or do you want to sleep? You seem tired." She leaned back, suddenly taking on the concerned look that he knew all to well. Any minute now, she would ask how the job went. Ask if anyone had gotten hurt. Ask if he was alright. She never asked if it was successful. She knew better than to ask that. If she knew, that would make her an accomplice. It would mean she wasn't safe. But she worried. He knew how she worried. It was always there, in the back of her mind, that one day she might only have the dreamed up memories of him. And yet she welcomed him with open arms every time. There was no one else. He knew that. He didn't understand it, but he knew it.

"No. I don't feel like sleeping. Breakfast sounds amazing though." She smiled, and maneuvered around him to get her feet to the floor, into her Jack Skellington slippers. She still loved the movie, even at her age. It was cute.

"Sit tight. I'll make some more coffee, okay?" She ran her hand over his hair as she went, fixing some stray piece he had missed or messed up since getting off the plane. He could scarcely remember what he had done between then and now. All he knew that when the plane had landed, and they had safely seen Dom off to his kids, his first thought had been Valerie, and the plan he had held onto for so long. He had spent weeks tying up every loose end he could even vaguely be linked too. He paid out to people he'd been avoiding, some for weeks, some for years, he'd completed, or at the very least overseen the completion of, every job he had ever walked out on unfinished, and he had bribed the necessary people to insure that he was not found and bothered for a long time. Time he planned to spend with Valerie. Time he planned to use to be the lover he had wanted to be for her, for so long. He was ready to go out, just like Dom had. He was ready to start living a normal life, with her, and without asking her to wait and worry for months at a time.

With all this in mind, he had still tried to keep up his usual appearances on the way here, despite the long flight with two unpredicted stops, for all he knew though, he could look a mess. How long had it been since he'd looked at himself? Thinking this, he pulled himself off the couch and headed to the bathroom, while Valerie went about in the kitchen, singing a tune he didn't recognize.

The mirror revealed that he didn't look too shabby. His clothes were a little wrinkled, and he was starting to get a little shadow along his jaw, but he looked relatively presentable. Minus the circles under his eyes. But he was beginning to get accustomed to those. Working with Dom had not done any wonders for his beauty sleep. Neither had loud, already-drunk frat-boys on their way to a Toronto Beer-fest.

"Coffee." She announced, poking her head into the bathroom, nearly making him jump. He hadn't been expecting her so soon, but there she stood with her favorite brown coffee mug, holding it out to him. "You still take it the same, right?"

"Always." He nodded, taking the mug from her hand. One sip later, he was fairly certain he'd achieved coffee Nirvana. Perfect. Just perfect. She never got it wrong. She stepped into the bathroom, leaning against the counter, staring at him. Well, perhaps staring wasn't the right word. Gazing would describe it better. Then she looked at the floor.

"You want a shower?"

"You think I need one?"

"You're such a smart-ass. Either way, breakfast will be in twenty. Don't make me wait." She kissed him on the cheek. So chaste. She turned to leave the bathroom, and he snagged her arm lightly, swinging her back around and pressing his lips against hers.

"I won't make you wait anymore." He informed against her mouth.

"I'm a patient woman, dollface. You should know that better than anyone."

He did know that.

She had changed her clothes. Or rather, she had changed out of her clothes and into her pajamas. Red sweats and a white tank top. Neither of which he recognized. How long had he been gone? She usually took him shopping so he could help her pick, citing that she was no good with fashion as her reason. He knew it was because she wanted to know what he liked. He didn't care when it was on her. But he pointed her in the direction of things he thought would look nice on her anyway. Not to say he was always right of course, but he often was.

Her long copper-brown hair was pulled up in a loose ponytail as she practically danced around the kitchen, making what he was beginning to think was a five-course meal.

"Still go for over medium?"

"Always." She shot him a smile over her shoulder, then went back to the eggs.

"So…I heard Dom made it back to the kids finally."

"Yeah…How did you hear about that?"

"From Miles. I've never been able to keep in touch with you, but one day he sent me an Email, said he was Dom's dad. We chat a lot, about you guys, nothing incriminating of course, but it's nice to have someone to talk to who understands what you're worrying about. Anyway, what did you have to pull to get Dom stateside again?"

"It's…a long story."

"One you can't tell me then?"

"It's for-"

"For my own safety. I know." She finished his sentence. She didn't sound bitter. She didn't sound like…anything really. She had said it in a monotone. "If you tell me, I might dream about it, and if that happens, you guys are in deep shit. I know."

"Valerie-"

"I've been hired to help write a movie." She swiftly changed the subject. "Nothing major, just an Indie film, but the pay is pretty good."

"I'm glad. You're very talented." He responded, though he couldn't help but feel that she didn't want to hear it. She wanted to hear the truth about what had happened, even though she knew he couldn't tell her anything.

"Thanks. But I don't think this is what we can call a big break." She laughed, sounding almost as if she were scoffing.

"You'll get it. And then you'll be famous, and live in a big gothic mansion in the woods somewhere, where you can write for days at a time, and Johnny Depp will be begging you to write movies for him."

"I'd never sell my soul to that jerk." She declared, pointing her spatula toward the window, as if she were indicating where Johnny Depp lived, before she turned to point the utensil at him. "And don't you laugh at me, Art. I know he's a jerk. I met him once."

"Did you now?"

"Yes I did. When I was a secretary for that one producer, in LA. He was trying to hire him, he sent me, all the way to freaking France, and Johnny was a jerk. He wouldn't even open the door all the way to talk to me." She jabbed the eggs particularly hard at the end of the sentence. Worried for his breakfast, he walked around the bar-counter, volunteering himself to help. "Could you grab the toast? I think it's just about done."

"Yes dear." He responded, only in a half-mocking tone, taking the bread slices from her toaster.

The end result of all this was two perfectly arranged plates of eggs, bacon, and hash browns, with a side of toast and coffee. Valerie even broke out two of her crystal wine glasses, pouring orange juice into each, as it was a bit early to actually drink wine. She squeezed in next to him at her tiny kitchen table, her legs turned toward him, bumping his elbow occasionally as they ate, as if they were in middle school and trying to flirt.

"Are you going to stay?" She asked suddenly. He hadn't noticed the quiet in the room, or associated it with the fact that she had stopped eating, the plate only half empty. He sat his cutlery to the side, following her example. He went to take a sip of his coffee, but found the cup empty. She stood and retrieved the pot from the counter, pouring him another.

"I don't know." She sat next to him again, now ignoring her food to lean both her hands on his knees. "I want to. For a long time, if you'll let me."

"Hm. I'd like it if you could." She smiled, though her eyes still looked a bit sad. She didn't think he meant it. He had to admit, there were a few times he had tried to promise such a thing before, but it seemed like every time, Dom had ended up calling him, needing a Point Man, and he had been forced to disappear again. He had hopes that it would be over now. Dom had gotten back home, and he had managed to save enough money to keep him for awhile, despite all his major payments. It was time he was allowed to live normally too.

"Hey…I mean it." He set his coffee on the table, touching her face lightly. "I'm done for awhile. Maybe forever. For real."

"Well, that being the case, I'm hardly going to know what to do with you Art. We'll have to find you something productive to do with all your new spare time."

"I can think of a few things."

* * *

He was staring at her ceiling, listening to Valerie shuffle around in the bathroom. He was showered and shaved, but still didn't feel quite up to sleeping. So he was staring at the ceiling. Her pillow smelled like Garnier. The same shampoo and conditioner she had used since he'd known her. There was a bra hanging on her bedpost, about an inch from his head. Some cute little black lace thing that he had no recognition of. Did she buy sexy lingerie just to have it? Unless…maybe there was someone else? Was there some tell-tale clue he had missed?

He raised his head off the pillow, scanning around the room. Nothing looked different, though he wasn't sure how having a secret boyfriend would change the layout of her apartment, unless she was trying to hide the mystery man. Or what if he was the secret, and she was really trying to hide him?

Now that the idea was stuck in his head, it wouldn't stop nagging at him. He rolled to his side, opening the drawer of her side table, digging through the contents thoroughly, but respectfully. There was a birthday card from him, from several years ago, sitting on top of the pile. He couldn't recall what he had written specifically, but he distinctly remembered it being horribly sappy and romantic. Some personal papers, consisting of a doctors bill for some painkillers, apparently she had hurt her foot at some point, a letter from her mother, a stack of bills in their envelops, bound in a rubber band, and, at the very bottom, a notebook. He lifted the cover, seeing it was full of her handwriting. He skimmed the few lines he could see, and decided it was a manuscript, not a diary. He wasn't the sort who would read her diary unless she gave him permission anyway. Violating privacy was sort of his job, but he just couldn't do it to Valerie. Of course, she had also threatened to castrate him at one point if he ever did. She had told him to just ask if there was something he wanted to know. Was this something he ought to bring up right now though?

He didn't have time to come to a decision, as Valerie entered the room then, her sweatpants over her arm, and her legs bare up to the silky looking underwear she had on. He couldn't decide on the fabric from this distance. She crossed the floor elegantly, tossing the sweats on the end of the bed, yawning and tousling her hair between her fingers.

"You seem cozy." She observed, looking down at him, where he rested comfortably in the center of her mattress.

"Join me." He scooted over a bit, lifting his arm along with the blanket, making a space that was perfectly Valerie-sized. She smiled and crawled into bed with him, pulling his arm, as well as the blanket, down over her shoulders.

"This is nice. I miss this." She said, hooking her leg over his. "But I do have to be at work in a couple hours."

"Mm. You could call in sick. I'll vouch for you. And I'll even spend the entire day taking care of you." He leaned in enough to kiss her ear, hoping to persuade her.

"I don't think so. Gotta pay the bills somehow Art, and I'm not a famous writer yet, so my day job will have to cut it." He felt her grin against his cheek, right before she bit his ear. "No more seducing me. You're too good at it."

He sighed a bit over-dramatically. "Alright. If you insist. I'll make do with cuddling."

"That's my gentleman. We'll have plenty of time to get reacquainted tomorrow. Or after, if you're going to stay for a long time." Her voice carried a hint of promise, as did the kiss she left lingering on his neck, before she cuddled against his shoulder, her breathing consciously slowing down as she tried to put herself to sleep.

"Valerie…can I ask you something?"

"Sure. Anything." She mumbled, her eyelashes fluttered a bit, but she didn't open her eyes.

"Do you see anyone else? I mean like-"

"Like a boyfriend?" She offered, as though sensing he wasn't sure how to word it.

"Yeah."

"No."

"No? Why not?"

"Well…what? Do you want me to or something? Like, a threesome?" She was more awake suddenly, propped up on her elbow with her eyebrows knit together in confusion.

"That's not what I meant. It just seems odd that you wouldn't. It's not like I'd ever catch you, and really, how many times have we seen each other in the last year?"

"Arthur…what brought all this up?" She questioned, clearly not having expected to have this conversation, now or ever. Which to him, seemed odd.

"Nothing. I was just thinking."

"Well, this isn't really something you just think about for no reason." She prodded. "Do you have a girlfriend that I don't know about? Is that why you're asking?"

"No, of course not. Well…there was this girl…"

"Ariadne." She ventured, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Yeah- how did you know that?" He sounded a bit more guilty than he would have liked. It wasn't as if he had been intending to hide a harmless little kiss in the first place, though he hadn't been too keen on explaining it. But there definitely weren't any other women in his life that were anything more than friends.

"Miles. He was complaining that Dom had stolen his best student, and I figured you were with him. So wait, she was in college?"

"No! Valerie, nothing happened. Well, nothing serious anyway. I kissed her. Once. And it wasn't even in the real world. I swear. It was nothing."

"Well I knew that." She practically laughed at him. He was lost.

"What do you mean?"

"If it had been anything serious, you would have done something silly to try and makeup for it. You would have like, shown up with flowers and champagne or something. You always try to apologize before I even know what you did."

He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it when he realized she was right. He was prone to trying to make up for things when she was clueless. Call it his insurance policy against her being angry. He had always figured sucking up ahead of time would soften the blow when it finally came time to tell her when something had happened, they had too little time together as it was to spend it being angry. Although, he had only ever seen her angry, at him, once. When she had caught him doing a background check on her. He still wasn't quite sure what had set her off about that when he knew she didn't have anything to hide, but by now had attributed it to the fact that he had more or less violated her trust and invaded her privacy. It did seem bad, now that he looked back on it.

"So really, why did you bring this up?"

"Sometimes I'm not sure I'm worth all the patience you have with me. That's all. It occurred to me that maybe you would want someone around who hasn't missed your birthday three years in a row."

"Sweetheart, you are so worth it." She assured, patting him lightly on the chest. "Besides, I've been trying to make it work with you for too long, I wouldn't know how to stop. You're the only one for me Art. I promise."

"I'll do my best to keep it that way." She nodded and kissed him lightly in lieu of an agreement, before snuggling back down against his shoulder. Silence fell over the room, he could hear the clock ticking in the kitchen. "Are you sure you don't want to call in tomorrow?"

She huffed a laugh and bopped him on the cheek. "Art, dollface, shut up and let me sleep."

"Sorry." He smiled at the top of her head while she turned her face down into the pillow. He wasn't.

* * *

Little Author's note to go here: The next part get's a bit confusing, but stick with it. I promise it will eventually make sense. Reviews are most helpful.


	2. CounterClockwise, Chapter 1

**We All Move in Circles**

**Counter-Clockwise, Chapter 1**

The Corner Café had never seemed emptier. Especially in the middle of the day. Of course, this middle of the day just happened to be the one where she was sitting at her usual table with a man she had just met, and made out with, who had previously been carrying a gun.

"So…" She started, staring over the table at him, perched awkwardly on the edge of her chair. "Uhm…" It was hard to believe she had just spent nearly ten minutes with her tongue in his mouth, and now she couldn't even think of a freaking sentence. This was not her idea of an average day. None of it really. The corner of his mouth turned up into a sexy, sly smirk, and then he took the initiative.

"So, what do you do?"

"I like to say I'm a writer. That's not really what pays the bills though, so I guess…I'm really a secretary. They call it an executive assistant, but I mean, really it's just answering phone calls and taking notes for the head of a small publishing company and…" Crap! She was rambling. She was rambling about her daily freaking life to a total stranger who may or may not be insane. She hadn't decided yet. "Actually, I guess that's really all there is to it." She summed up hurriedly, before she let her address or something slip. He smiled at her again, and she couldn't help but flush as she stared intently down into her coffee.

"What do you write about?"

"So far…nothing worth publishing. Or so they tell me. What about you?"

"It's not a good thing to get into over coffee."

"Right. Things involving guns usually aren't." She nodded, not sure if that statement was supposed to be serious or not. She was really making this up as she went. "I just want to ask this and get it out of the way. Were you going to kill someone?"

He looked over at her, seeming mildly surprised by the statement. Which was silly in her opinion, he'd been on public transportation with a _gun_. What was she supposed to think? She watched him as he tugged at the cuffs of his button-up shirt, something she was beginning to recognize as a nervous fidget. Well, perhaps not nervous, but he seemed to do it whenever there was a silence for more than thirty seconds. Dark eyes met hers. "No. Not in the real world anyway. I just took the gun so it wasn't used on me first."

"What does that mean? The "real world"? Are you like…from Mars or something? A virtual world? Or are you stuck in time?"

"You read too many books." He informed, the little smirk teasing at the right corner of his mouth again. And, but God was it sexy. He had the most perfectly shaped lips she had ever kissed. Bow-curved, but not feminine. Just a sort of…almost permanent, fox-like smile. The smirk widened. He had caught her staring. Again.

"Right, well, you can't write a good book if you can't read a good book." She blurted, dragging herself back to the conversation very un-elegantly.

"I agree."

She took a segue sip of her coffee. "Do you live around here or are you just…visiting?"

"I'm here on business. You?"

"Moved here about a year ago. I was born down south though. Took me forever to get rid of my drawl."

"A drawl? I find that very hard to believe, you don't sound even remotely Southern."

"You don't have to speak with an English accent to be smart, you know."

"I know. Trust me, I know that very well." His attention drifted momentarily. Then he looked at her half-empty coffee cup. "How do you feel about dinner?"

"That depends. I mean, are you asking how I feel about it in general, or how I would feel about it with you?" He smiled again, despite the remark having been fairly smart-ass of her.

"With me." He clarified.

"Hm, I see. Well, again, it depends. I suppose it could be nice, you're very much the gentleman from what I can gather so far. However, it may also be a bit weird, as we don't know each other, I don't know what you'll want at the end of all this and I still don't know what you were doing on public transportation with a semi-automatic weapon. For all I know, you could be a terrorist or an escaped convict who is luring me into your web so that you can use me as a hostage later." Well, now that she had gotten all that off her chest…it was just a matter of how he reacted to decide whether she stayed and finished this coffee, or made a run for the door. If he said or implied anything even slightly suspicious, she was out of there. Or, she hoped she was at least. He had an uncanny power over her, to make her sit still even when she knew alarm bells should be going off in her head.

He rewarded the long and detailed report with yet another of his pretty smiles, this time accompanied by a small chuckle. "What do you think my intentions are then?"

"I don't know. I haven't decided yet. You don't strike me as particularly dangerous, but at the same time, I feel like I should know better than to trust you."

"I can assure you that I'm not dangerous."

"Okay. Not dangerous. But I still shouldn't trust you should I?" She asked, lifting the coffee mug from it's little plate, but not taking a sip for fear that if she broke eye contact with him, he wouldn't answer her.

"That all depends on you. Whether you trust me or not is entirely up to you. I won't ask you to, so don't if you don't want to. I just want to know if you'll let me treat you to dinner as a thank you for what you did on the bus." He picked up his own mug and took a drink, presumably giving her time to mull it over in her head.

The only thing that really came to mind though was that the kiss had been a reward in itself. She hadn't kissed or been kissed like that in a long time. Not because she hadn't been out and about with the boys -in fact there was one she should be getting ready to meet in an hour- but because there was a severe lack of adventure to dating life in this city, unless you wanted to date a convict of course. No one seemed to have any sense of daring without the help of some form of drug or psychological trouble. But this guy had it in spades, and so far, had seemed relatively normal. They had never even seen each other before today, but they had kissed like they had known each other intimately for months. She had to admit, it had lit a nice little spark in her tummy, and she wanted to explore how long she could keep it burning.

"Alright. I'll take the offer. Where did you have in mind for dinner?"

His smile this time was a little bit smug, as though he had known all along that she would eventually give in and say yes. "I didn't. Where do you want to go?"

"All things considered, there's really only one place that's befitting a situation like this one."

"I'll follow you."

* * *

Her favorite restaurant was a small pseudo-bar called Violet's, and that's where she decided to take her stranger. Some people shortened it to "Vi's" and some people called it the "Purple-people-eater". This latter group was small and fairly exclusive, and only called it such because there was also a group of middle-aged women who prowled the bar within, giving definition to the term "cougar". The people who called it "Purple-people-eater" were essentially college co-eds who had fallen victim to their fangs.

Today the music was quiet, likely due to the still fairly early hour, and the fact that it was Wednesday. They found themselves at a small corner table, plum-purple bound menus before them, and a lilac table cloth making it difficult to actually focus on the lettering within the menu, due to the clashing shades of purple.

"Why do you like this place, if you don't mind me asking?"

He seemed to be made a little nervous by the décor. She had to admit, it was a bit overwhelming if you didn't know what was in store for you when you entered. But she had been hoping for such a thing. She had more-or-less wanted to turn the tables on him, let him be the nervous one while she gathered her thoughts in a familiar setting.

"I don't know really." She shrugged to his question, flipping through the menu, though she didn't need to. Christian, a friend of hers who worked here, knew what she liked and usually brought it to her table without her ever even having to tell him. The minute he knew she was there, he had an Asian-chicken salad waiting in the wings for her, complete with her drink of choice, which was usually something mildly alcoholic, but she figured today she would stick with water. She still wasn't quite ready to risk being inhibited when she was with a stranger, no matter how polite he had been on the way here, opening doors for her and such. Who even did that anymore? "Somebody brought me here for my birthday, and I've liked it ever since."

"I see. Well it's…nice." She could tell he wanted to say something else, but she didn't pry and sat back in the cute plastic chair, watching him flip casually through the menu.

"Are you vegetarian?"

"No."

"Then I would suggest the pesto chicken. I've never heard a bad thing about it."

"What are you having?"

"I always get an Asian-chicken salad. It's a tradition."

"Then I'll have what you're having."

"Okay." She nodded cheerily, and waved a hand at Christian as he walked by, raising two of her fingers to indicate double the usual, and gestured to her guest.

"Friend of yours?" He asked as Christian disappeared back into the kitchen.

"Yeah. More or less anyway. We never see each other outside of Violet's, but talk all the time here." She shrugged. She cast around for a subject and her eyes landed on a pair of teenagers in the corner, probably out on their first real date. "So…do you have a girlfriend?" She finally asked, not paying attention until it had literally fallen out of her mouth. She was going to have to start watching herself. If this kept up, she was going to be inviting him back to her place for "desert" before the day was out. And she didn't want that. She thought she didn't anyway.

"Are you offering?"

"No! Well, I mean…just…no. I'm not. I'm just curious." She explained hurriedly, before pointedly focusing in on her glass of water. God, why was it so easy for him to mess her up like that? She wasn't usually the one falling into pits like this.

"Ah, well, all the same, no. No girlfriend." He said around his own glass, politely trying to hide the fact he was more or less laughing at her. "And yourself? Is there a boyfriend I'm currently stealing you away from?"

"Not really."

"'Not really'? That makes it seem like I may have an angry Seattle-native breathing down my neck at the end of the night."

This time she smiled. "I wouldn't worry too much about it. I'm not into the whole 'serious dating' scene right now. I mean, not like the slutty kind. I don't hook up randomly or anything. I'm just…not in a committed relationship is all."

"I wasn't thinking you were slutty."

"Oh. Sorry. You make me really…I don't know…chatty I guess. Or maybe nervous. I don't know. You make me blurt things out."

"Why do you think that is?" He leaned on the table casually, though that did little to disguise the little mischievous glimmer in his eyes.

"Maybe because I still haven't decided whether you belong in a mental institution or not." She shrugged innocuously.

"A mental institution? That seems a little severe, don't you think?" He asked, swirling his water around by twisting his wrist. "Considering I haven't done anything particularly insane."

"Not really, I don't think. But I don't know anything about you, let alone how normal or abnormal you may be. I mean, you haven't really given me much to go on. You've just told me enigmatic details. Like: "Here on business", what kind of business? How long are you here for? What kind of job do you do? I don't really want to ask you questions, because I don't know what kind of answers you'll give me, or whether they'll be honest."

"Okay then, I'm an open book." He sat back in his chair, and spread his arms slightly as though he were offering himself up for a lap-dance. "Ask me anything you want, and I'll answer. Honestly of course."

She thought for a moment, the knuckle of her index finger resting lightly against her lips. "Do you…believe in God?" She was met with a somewhat incredulous look from her companion.

"That's an…odd question to start with."

"I was under the impression that you were going to answer anything I wanted to ask." His lips thinned as he realized the exact implications of what he had said, but rather than argue the point, he seemed to think it over for a moment, crossing his arms loosely.

"No. I don't think I do." He concluded. "If I did, I imagine I'd be in a constant state of moral turmoil. Do you mind if I ask you a question as well?"

"Nope. I'll be an open book too."

"Why would that be your first question?"

"There are only a few things that I absolutely cannot stand." She explained, pausing momentarily to thank Christian as he delivered their food, as well as a drink menu to her companion, and an already opened Corona to her side of the table. She wasn't yet sure if she would drink it, but apparently Christian had decided she looked like she needed it. He folded his hands, and said to ask if they needed anything else, followed by a glance her direction that said she would get questions as to who this stranger was later as he headed to his next table. "Anyway," She picked up again, poking at her salad for a moment. "-one of the things I can't handle are religious extremists, regardless of what end of the spectrum they're on. The fact that you don't believe in God, but didn't bite my head off either are a pretty good indication that you're not a terrorist. At least, not the religious variety."

"I see. I suppose it makes sense. But what if I had just lied to you?" He rose a questioning eyebrow at her.

"Well, I would have hoped that you kept your word and answered me honestly. Other than that, there's not much I could do until you bombed a church." She shrugged, plucking up some salad on her fork. Looked delicious, as always. "Are you or are you not an escaped convict?"

"Escaped would imply that I've been caught. I haven't."

"But…You are a criminal?"

"By general consensus, yes I am. Not the violent sort though, don't worry about that. I won't be jumping you in a dark alley or anything."

"What's the difference between a violent criminal and whichever variety you are then? I mean, you're still technically breaking the law, aren't you?"

"The violence for one."

"What kind of crimes could you possibly commit that don't involve some kind of physical violence?"

"The stealing variety."

She almost wasn't surprised. Didn't that just figure in so well with his suave, witty demeanor, and his ever so nice and likely expensive pressed suit? Why hadn't she guessed that? Next he was going to tell her he robbed the rich and gave to the poor.

"And what exactly do you steal that doesn't require you to at least throw a punch once in awhile?"

"I steal secrets."

"You mean like, espionage? Are you a spy?"

He chuckled again at her rather excited sounding tone of voice. "No, nothing that glamorous. Just your garden variety corporate one-up sort of thing. There have been a few state secrets, but nothing worthy of James Bond."

"And how, pray tell, do you pull of those kinds of things and not ever get caught?"

"By not doing it in the real world."

"Okay, there you are saying 'real world' again. What exactly do you mean by that?"

His mouth curved up again, into a lopsided smile. But this one seemed a bit off, as though he was forcing it. "What do you know about dreams?"

* * *

The food had gone. The lights were beginning to dim as Violet's prepared for the evening drinking, which would likely be uneventful given it was the middle of the week. Christian had left an hour ago, and the new servers were leaving them to their secluded table. She had asked him everything she could think of. Everything under the sun. Except for the one obvious question. Just who exactly he was. She was almost afraid to. All this information she had, all this personality and character he had, it would somehow break the spell if she knew something as mundane as his name. She made him laugh with her never ending sarcasm, and he had her enthralled with the stories of his life, his job. Extraction, he called it, stealing things out of peoples minds through dreaming. Though she could wrap her mind around the idea, if only barely, the sheer mechanics of it all were amazing. He wouldn't go into any great detail about what exactly he did, or what exactly he stole, saying it would likely endanger clients, subjects, his teammates, or maybe even her if anyone ever found out he had told her. She was kind of glad he kept details to himself, sounded like he knew some scary people. All the same though, she had run out of serious questions twenty-minutes ago, and had thus started in with filler questions.

"Okay…three things to do on a Friday night." She tried, leaning her hands lightly on the table. "And if you say masturbate, I'll probably choke." He broke into a grin, trying hard not to laugh and maintain his dignified appearance, before gathering himself and, still grinning, answering seriously:

"By myself or when I'm with someone?"

"Both."

"Alright…I like a good book, French food, and film Noir, not necessarily all together if I've got a free Friday. If I was say…taking a very pretty girl out on a date, I like to do things the old-fashioned way. Take her out to a nice dinner, somewhere romantic, maybe even bring flowers, nothing too fancy of course, as it's probably inappropriate to show up to a first date with a full bouquet."

"Well, that all depends on the girl I would imagine." She answered, matter-of-factly, to which he smiled, looking vaguely as if he were plotting something.

"And what are your three things to do on a Friday night?"

"Most nights I only do one thing, work on my stories. It sounds really lame, and no fun to most people, they think writing is work, like it was in school you know? But when you get really into it, the way I do, your story can practically become your life. It's like a whole new world that you can just dive into, create, discover…I mean, it's sort of like the way you describe the dream-sharing. The way you build a world, and for a little while it becomes reality for you." She glanced up from the third Corona she had consumed, having, after forty-five minutes, deemed it safe to drink around this stranger. He had a far-away look in his dark eyes, looking vaguely in her direction, but seeming to stare over her head. "That happens, doesn't it? When you're in a dream, you can't tell if it's real or not, can you?"

"Sometimes it…well, I mean, that's the idea. That you're not able to tell until you've woken up." He had the look of someone who had suddenly missed a step going downstairs, as if he were trying to get his heart back in his chest where it belonged after it had leapt into his throat. She wondered what he was thinking of.

"Have you ever like, gotten lost or something like that?"

"No. There have been some…close calls. But no. I've never been totally lost." The faraway look came back, but it was more vague this time. He gave his head a shake.

"Is dreaming really so similar to reality that you can get confused? I mean, when I dream they're really…chaotic. Like, the waking up in math in your underwear thing. I dreamt about that, but I knew it wasn't real."

"But you never know while you're in the dream, do you? Sure, you know once you've woken up, and felt everything the way it should be, in reality, but while you're in the dream, fully immersed in it, you're convinced that it's real." He explained patiently, picking up his water glass, then realizing that it was empty and setting it back down. "That's the power of your mind. It can literally convince you that something that isn't there is, that it exists as real as anything else."

"I know all about that." She stated absently. He looked at her, full of curiosity. She sighed a little, not really wanting to spill the beans on such a private matter, but, she figured there was really no harm in telling someone who didn't even know her name. They seemed to have reached a silent agreement to remain anonymous. "I knew someone who was a schizophrenic. He was…pretty out there, you know? He had a sort of…bond with me. He was for some reason convinced that I was the only real person he knew. That everyone else was just an image made up…by these ghosts he saw everywhere. He said they were out to get him, and if he trusted any of these images, then the ghosts could get him. This one time he broke into my house, locked us both in my bedroom, and he kept me there for two days, making me listen and look at things that only he could see. It wasn't his fault, I mean, I say that now, but when he was keeping me in my room, threatening my little sisters if I didn't stay, I was plotting ways to kill him. I was one more crazy fit about ghosts away from just hitting him over the head with my computer. So yeah, I get the bit about mind over matter. I know it's true. A lot of personal experience on that front." She finished her story and was met with the usual shocked stare. "Hey, don't look at me like that. Nothing weird happened to me. Well, it was weird, yeah, but it didn't traumatize me or anything. I went to therapy for awhile, they let me out of that after three weeks."

"You've got to be the most unshakable woman I've ever met."

She laughed. "Come on, I grew up in the south. I spent my childhood dodging freaking rattlesnakes, my therapist carried a gun at all times, and the guy I took to my high school prom wanted me to join the KKK with him. There is not a single normal thing that's happened to me in my lifetime."

"I guess that would explain me."

"What do you mean?"

"Of all the people I could have sat next to, it happened to be someone who could handle the situation as…elegantly as you did. If only because you've had so many abnormal things happen to you, that this was just a walk in the park."

"Okay…I'm not sure if that's really a compliment, but I'll pretend like it was." She responded, a smile curving her lips.

"Can I ask you one more thing?"

"Only one more?" She raised an eyebrow. He nodded, she shrugged before nodding as well. "Sure. Why not?"

"Why did you agree to this?"

"To…?"

"The coffee. And the dinner."

"Because you asked me?"

"Do you always accept dinner invitations from total strangers?"

"No. Not always. But…call it my curiosity getting the better of me, as it often does. Something about you interests me. Like, really interests me. I can't really explain why, but I wanted to see what would happen if I went a long with it."

"And what's the conclusion then?"

"I don't know. I don't think we've quite gotten there yet." She said, leaning back in her seat.

And then, as though it had been waiting for that exact moment, his phone started to ring in his pocket. She knew it was his, because hers was silent and in her bag, and the no-nonsense ringtone was unmistakably something he would have picked. A frown found it's way to his wonderful mouth, something she hadn't seen all night, and his eyebrows furrowed in a rather irritated fashion. He pulled the device from his jacket pocket, glanced at the number, and hung up on whoever it was.

"Sorry, but I think-" The phone started up again, somehow sounding more insistent the second time around. He sighed, and looked at her apologetically. "I'm sorry." He said again, turning the ringer off. "But I need to take this. And…I think I may have to leave now."

"Okay. I understand. Secret thief business or something like that, right?"

"Something like that, yes."

"So…what are the chances that you'd call me if I gave you my number?" She asked, suddenly feeling sheepish, and not sure why.

"I…I really can't make any promises."

"Okay." It was hard to keep the disappointment out of her voice. Wasn't it strange how the most interesting people in life were usually the ones you only got to see once, for the briefest of times? "You better get that, they're calling you again." She gestured to the phone.

Looking vaguely at it, he nodded. "I'll be back after I talk to them, to get the bill, will you still be here? I'd like to say goodbye properly."

"Sure, you better hurry up though."

He rose from the table, walking to the back hall of the restaurant, which was situated in the only quite place, between the bathrooms and the kitchen. She plucked a napkin up from the table, absently folding and unfolding it.

* * *

When he came back to the table, after a long conversation concerning his teammates, who had been wondering where the hell he'd gone to, and why they hadn't heard from him in nearly four hours, she was gone. Something akin to regret burned it's way into his chest. The table had been cleared of everything but the bill, paid in full. He felt the urge to run out the door, see if he could catch her, but knew it would be impossible. She could have left long before, she could be home already for all he knew. Not only that, he was due in St. Petersburg in fifteen hours. He scanned the table again, and saw a curious thing sitting under what had been his water glass the entire night. A note.

It was simply addressed to 'Mr. Stranger', and read a very short prose: "Call me in three days, or I'll decide you aren't real." Below that, was a string of numbers which he presumed to be her phone number, and it was signed with a large letter V. Sighing ever so slightly, he tucked the napkin-written note back under the glass. It would just be better that way, he was convinced.

"If only."

* * *

Author's note: Again, I promise it will all eventually coincide. Furthermore, reviews are lovely. :)


	3. Clockwise, Chapter 2

**We All Move in Cirlces**

**Clockwise, Chapter 2**

Thunder woke Arthur what felt like mere seconds later. Something seemed odd, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Deciding that he would worry about it later, when Valerie had woken up and wasn't keeping him cozy and warm anymore, he stretched his legs out, wrapping his arm around her more securely, and suddenly realized what was odd. He was dressed. Fully dressed, shoes and all. That didn't bode well.

He shot up from the bed, which was not Valerie's, and made a quick observation of their surroundings. It looked like a cheap hotel. Looked and smelled. Cigarette smoke clung to the furniture, barely concealed by the Febreeze someone had unloaded into the room. This was bad. Bad, bad, bad, and more bad. He slid off the mattress, crossing the floor to the window, taking in the city surrounding the hotel. The sky was heavy with clouds and smog, which likely explained the thunder, dingy neon signs lit up bits of the streets, where he could make out piles of trash and people, some talking, some walking, some sitting amongst the trash and doing nothing. It seemed they were in a bad part of a bad city.

Another crack of thunder from the sky drew his attention momentarily upward, drops of water starting to fall against the window pane. He craned his neck to the side, nearly pressing his ear against the glass so he could see over toward the door leading out of the room. As he'd expected, a man stood guarding the door, an assault rifle settled comfortably against his hip as he lit a cigarette.

_From bad to worse._ Arthur thought darkly, turning away from the window before the guard realized he was being watched. Well, there was only one thing to do now. He strode back to the edge of the mattress, leaning over Valerie and giving her a shake. She yawned widely as she sat up, looking first at him with bleary eyes, then down at her fully-clothed self.

"Why am I dressed?" She questioned, apparently not having observed the scenery yet.

"I think we may have run into a bit of trouble." Her eyes widened as she stared over his shoulder at the room behind him, before darting back to his face. "Don't panic." He told her quickly, seeing the flurry of questions that were about to start flying in his direction. "Just stay calm. We'll be fine."

"But…where are we?"

"I don't know. But we're not in Kansas, that's for sure." She raised an eyebrow at him, looking equally confused and upset. "Sorry. Bad time for that. Come on, we'll get out of here and start looking for ideas as to where we are."

"Shouldn't we call the poli…no I guess we shouldn't, huh?"

"Not while I'm here at least. Besides, it doesn't seem as if we have a phone." He gestured to the phone jack, where a disconnected cord hung tauntingly.

"Okay. Okay. I can handle this." She took a deep breath, and when she glanced around the room a second time, she seemed distinctly calmer. "So, what's the plan?"

"First things first. Be a dear and go tap on the window, will you?" She looked a bit bemused, but nodded and did as she was told, standing and walking to the window, while he took up a spot by the door. He tested the knob, sighing in relief when he found that it wasn't locked from the outside. Valerie raised a hand and rapped her knuckles on the glass, looking as though she had expected it to shatter. The moment he heard the footstep of the man on the other side of the door, Arthur threw it open with all his might, slamming the metal against the body on the other side.

"Oh my god! Did you kill him?" Valerie gasped, dashing to the door.

"Don't think so. Let's go, in case he's got friends." He stepped out onto the metal porch that wrapped around the hotel, grabbing up the assault rifle in one hand, Valerie's in the other, and heading down the stairs as quickly as he could given the slippery metal. Once on the pavement and able to actually run, he started off toward the nearest alley, deciding that finding cover from whatever friends the guard may have would be the first priority.

"Where in the world are we? The whole city looks like a back alley in Vegas." Valerie wondered aloud, staring up first the building on their left, then glancing at the one on the right. Then down at the trash, probably looking for a newspaper, thinking it would offer a clue. As far as he could tell though, the trash consisted purely of blank paper and glass bottles.

"I've been wondering that. I don't remember anything before all this, do you?"

"No…I mean, nothing specific. I kind of remember you getting back really early in the morning but…"

"In that case, I think we're dreaming right now."

"Dreaming? You mean…we're being Extracted?"

"One of us is at least. I can't tell which though."

"Either way, all we have to do is wake up, right? So can't we just go jump off of something high enough to wake ourselves up?"

"Theoretically yes. But we have no idea what they put us under with. If we're sedated and we try to wake up the conventional way, we might wind up being vegetables. Or we could end up going further down rather than up."

"So we're just supposed to wander around until one of us gets mind-fucked?"

"No. We find what they want first, hide it, wait it out until the sedative wears off, and get out of your apartment while they're still dreaming and looking."

"How long will it be until the sedative wears off?"

"I don't know. It's not my dream. It could be days."

"Alright…that's not scary at all. And you do this often?"

"I'm usually on the other side of it."

"Ah. Yes. In that case, how do we find whatever they want before they do?" She jogged a step to keep up with his quick strides.

"We start looking for safe places. Banks, police stations, safes, things like that. When Extractors create a dreamscape, they add in a place where our minds would naturally want to put a secret. For example, if they did their jobs right, and they're extracting you, we'll find what we're looking for in a book hidden in a library or in someplace where you would hide your diary. If they're extracting me, then we're looking for a double of you."

"A double of me?"

"Yeah. You're the only one who knows any of my secrets." He glanced over his shoulder at her with an awkward smile. "You're the only one I would ever entrust with something worth extracting."

"Sounds simple enough. No doubt it's much more difficult than it seems though, because the dreamscapes are supposed to be mazes, right?"

"Right. And they'll more than likely be trying to slow us down the entire way as well." He nodded, not asking where she had learned that. More than likely it was Miles's doing. He was going to have to have a talk with that old man about what he let slip while he was being pen-pals with Arthur's girlfriend.

She shoved her rain-drenched hair out of her eyes with her free hand, looking thoughtful. "I think we should start with a library then. If they're extracting me, then the book would be hidden in the library or in my apartment, like you said. If they're extracting you, then the other me would probably be in the library too."

"Unless I put you somewhere else."

"Well…where else would you put me?"

"I don't know. I don't know what's in this city exactly, so you could be anywhere I may have seen you before. A café or a bookstore, or even walking around the streets." He shrugged.

"This is starting to sound implausible."

"I suppose implausible is better than impossible. Let's just hope they're extracting you."

"I can't imagine why they'd want to. I don't really know much about anything important."

"You know about me. You know about Dom and Miles. Where we might be, things like that. They could just be looking for outside details on us. What we know about one another is totally different from what you know about me, or what Dom's kids or Miles would know about him. Personal information is the best way to get at someone."

"I see." Valerie nodded sagely, whilst he peered around the corner of a building, looking for any indication of someone who wasn't a projection of one of their subconscious minds, which he realized was an irrelevant thing to look for. There wasn't really a surefire way to differentiate between the subconscious projections and the Extractors until the subconscious picked up on it on it's own. Sure, he could look for other people carrying guns or something, but if this was his brain, then there would likely be guns galore once his mind started trying to defend itself. It occurred to him that he may have stolen the gun he was carrying from his own projection trying to protect them, but decided it was a moot point. Arthur was not a man who liked to take chances.

"Alright. We need to find a phone booth or a bus stop, somewhere with a map, see if we can find a library or a bookstore on there somewhere." He decided, stepping out onto the street on the other side of the alley, Valerie right on his heels. He kept the rifle between them. Though it wasn't the best concealment, he hoped it was enough to keep the projections/Extractors from noticing right away.

"Would they really give us a map?"

"If they did it right." He nodded, looking as far ahead as he could in the darkness of the street, not seeing anything relative to a bus stop. "When extracting, you want to keep the subject unaware, so things have to be as uniform as possible. We already know that we're dreaming, so it's pointless for us, but if we hadn't realized it yet, we would start getting suspicious if we found a blank map or newspaper, or something like that, and our subconscious would start looking for them. Things have to be realistic so that the subject doesn't realize that they're dreaming and wake up."

"Then, since we know we're dreaming, why haven't we woken up?" She was starting to seem quite lost in the midst of all this new information.

"That's the sedation I'd guess."

"Jesus. I can hardly keep my own mind together, I can't imagine trying to keep someone else's copasetic like that." Valerie rubbed the back of her hand across her forehead. "So, what part of all this do you do, Art?"

"I'm the Point man."

"Which is?"

"It's my job to know everything about a subject. What they like, what they don't, fears, relationships, memories, secrets, everything."

"Mm. Well, that explains a lot." He looked over at her curiously, silently questioning. "About you I mean. Why you did that background check on me and everything. You don't like surprises, do you?"

"Not particularly."

"And that's why you're so good at what you do." She declared with a smile. "Because you _want_ to know everything."

"I'm good at what I do because I'm thorough."

"And you're thorough because you don't like mystery. You would have been a great detective if you hadn't joined up with Dom, I think."

"There are a lot of things I would have been if I'd never joined up with Dom." Arthur muttered, feeling a bit pissier than he ought to. He liked his job, a lot. Loved it even, if he felt the need to admit it, and he was eternally grateful to Dom for bringing him into the world of dreams. But some times, mostly the days that went the way of this one, he would kill to have a normal day job.

"Hey, they might have a map." Valerie said suddenly, halting and pointing down another alley at a magazine stand, straight out of a movie representation of New York.

"Let's go see." He nodded, following her now as she made a bee line for the dimly lit little structure, making sure to keep the gun out of the line of vision of the middle-aged man who was running the stand. Why couldn't the guy have been packing a handgun that he could have just stuck in his pocket?

Arthur got bad vibes from the salesman. He wasn't sure why. It probably had something to do with the fact that he was leering at Valerie like she was completely nude. He wasn't a particularly jealous man, but nobody liked when their significant other was getting blatant, lusty stares from someone who was at least twenty years older and behaved suspiciously similar to a junkie.

"Hi there." She either didn't notice, or was choosing to ignore the salesman's slimy gaze as she approached the counter and smiled at him. She shook her sopping hair out of her eyes, scanning the magazines and thin books lining the stand. "We're a bit lost. Do you have any maps of the city we could use to try and find our way to the library?"

"Five bucks, cupcake." He hissed out around unsightly teeth, raising a hand at her, as though thinking she wouldn't know what five meant without the help of his fingers to count.

"Uhm…" She bit her lower lip, patting the pockets of her jeans, followed by the pockets on her jacket, then looked back at him, which he assumed to mean she hadn't found her wallet or any bills in her pockets. He could only shrug, knowing he hadn't been graced with his wallet, as it was always in the same place, and he knew it wasn't in his back right pocket at this moment. He also knew he didn't have his die with him, which put him in a state of unease. He was fairly certain this was all a dream, but years of practice had taught him that you shouldn't trust anything but your totem. "Uh…" She looked back at the salesman, giving him an apologetic shrug. "We're really lost? I don't suppose you could just let us look at it, could you?"

"I say five bucks, I mean five bucks, bunny. Dem's the rules." He crossed his arms and leaned uncomfortably close to Valerie. "For a cute little ass like yours though, I may be willin' to cut a bargain or two."

Arthur was a bit worried, considering this was one of their sub consciousnesses acting this way. Sure, the mind usually filled the dreamscape with projections that were appropriate characters for the setting, but they often projected at least a little of the person they reflected as well, hence their name. He hoped neither of them was this much of a lecherous creep deep down though.

"Time's a wastin' bunny. The deals comin' off the table 'less you make a decision."

"You know, I think we can find it just fine on our own." He interrupted, not even wanting to entertain the idea of what this guy would ask for. "Let's keep looking." Valerie nodded, retreating a few steps back towards him.

"Oi!" Came a heavily French-accented voice from the alleyway that lead back out onto the street they had come from. "Luther, you were supposed to let her keep her wallet!"

Part of him was thankful that the creep, or Luther, as his name apparently was, wasn't actually a projection of one of them; while the other parts were all screaming at him for not realizing he was part of the Extraction team. That would explain why the stand had been so obviously placed right by where they would walk, and why it had so quickly drawn Valerie's attention. It appeared he was not as sharp on his own as he was when he had Eames to try and one-up.

"Start running." He instructed Valerie, while the one from the opening of the alley advanced toward them. He heard the salesman shuffling around behind him, and hoped to high Heaven that Luther and this other guy had the sense not to shoot them before they had the information they wanted. One could only hope for so much in one day though. The fact that they weren't trying to cover-up the fact that this was a dream anymore either meant they were trying to run with a Gambit, similar to Dom's 'Mr. Charles', or they weren't as good as Arthur was giving them credit for. Regardless, he wasn't sure what their plan would be from here, and he would much rather run this his way than their way.

Valerie made a mad dash for the only exit not blocked by one of the extractors, a barely noticeable alleyway between the news stand and an overflowing dumpster, Arthur fired off a couple rounds at the two before following her. He wasn't too thrilled with the idea of killing these two and having them wake up while he and Valerie were still asleep, God knew what that Luther guy would do to her while she was sedated, but he wasn't about to let them have an easy time of getting what they wanted either. He aimed low, but didn't wait around to see whether he had hit them.

The street on the other side of the Magazine stand looked the same as all the other streets and alley ways they had been in. Trashy, rainy, cold, and seemingly endless, they had been running through the projections for nearly ten minutes before he deemed it safe to stop and catch their collective breath. Valerie leaned on a wall, taking a deep inhale and looking as if she were concentrating very hard, likely trying to keep herself calm.

"Are you okay?"

"As far as I know. This is all very scary though. I mean, it's just a dream, but I've never been in a dream like this and not woken up before. Of course, I've also never had a pervert invading my dreams either."

"There are worse people you could have in here, believe me."

"Oh really?"

"Yes. We could have amateurs putting all this together."

"How would amateurs be better than people who know what they're doing? Wouldn't it be easier to get out with all your secrets intact if the Extractors don't know what they're doing?"

"It's also a lot easier to wind up in Limbo. They could get trigger happy or decide to torture us for information, and end up killing us while we're sedated, and we'd end up being brain dead. Either way, it would hurt. If you get shot in a dream like this, you'll feel it just like you would in the real world."

"That's very reassuring Art, thank you." She said it in a tone that sounded a bit too similar to the way Eames would have spoken to him, but she smiled as she said it, knowing it was just part of his personality to lay everything out flat. "Do you think we could dream up some bulletproof vests?"

* * *

"What kind of city has no libraries, no phonebooks, and no freaking coffee shops?" Valerie demanded, as they rounded yet another corner and found, yet again, a seemingly endless street, the lamps went on beyond where they could see. She stared up at a movie theatre's vertical sign as she spoke. They hadn't seen any signs of the Extractors, which he found a little strange. It was usually a good idea to keep your mark close while you explored the dream realm, steer them away from things that might give you away. He was beginning to expect that they were amateurs that had been hit with a stroke of good fortune. And he didn't like the idea at all. "Hey, I've been thinking," She added, watching her feet now as they dodged what looked suspiciously like vomit on the sidewalk. "-is there a way we could ask the projections for directions?"

"We could I suppose, but I don't think they'd have anything to offer. They're still just our subconscious. If we don't know where it is, they won't either. They'd probably have us running in circles by the end of it."

"Oh."

"Judging from what we saw between those two earlier, I'd say Luther is the dreamer of this, which would explain the…décor. If we could find him again, we could get the location we want from him."

"How do you propose we make him tell?" She questioned, and he could tell from the face she was making at him she expected him to suggest she do something lewd. He was actually a bit offended that she would think such a thing of him.

"You remember how I said you would feel being shot like it was real?" She nodded. "That's how. Pain is all mental. A few broken fingers will make most people talk." She visibly shuddered, just a little.

"I don't want to imagine you breaking fingers."

"Well, if it comes down to that, I hope you won't think any less of me."

"Sorry, I didn't mean it to sound like that. This is just…kind of a new experience for me is all." Valerie shrugged a little. Arthur understood. Most people's first time sharing dreams either resulted in a horrible experience that would turn them off of dreaming forever, or an instant addiction to trying to push the limits of the dreamscapes. His immediate reaction had been the latter. Since then, he had more or less gotten the impulse to explore the limitations of dreaming under control, save for the occasional experiment, but he had never been the one being Extracted before. He didn't imagine this was reflecting his profession on her very well.

"This isn't the best way to experience dream sharing. When we wake up, we'll do it right, I'll show you the good points." He promised, reaching over to drape his free arm over her soaked shoulders, giving her a half-hug that he tried to make as comforting as possible. She glanced at him, forcing her smile a bit -he hoped only due to the cold and their current circumstances- her arm snaking around his middle.

"I'm going to need a long dose of reality before I even want to try this again."

"That's fine with me."

* * *

The sun had come up. Not that it was particularly relevant. But it had at least stopped raining, sadly that didn't change the fact they were both soaked to the bones and exhausted. Valerie had taken a turn carrying the gun around, which had been a scary time for him. Not that he was worried about her shooting her own foot off or anything, though she had voiced the concern several times, he was more worried about whether she knew how to shoot it at people. The city didn't look anymore cheerful with sunlight shining down on it. If anything, it looked worse, dirtier.

Arthur yawned as he repeated the same routine he had been performing all night. Look around a corner, give it a once over, not see anything, start wandering down the street, look for anything relative to a library but see nothing other than small office buildings and dingy apartment complexes, check in a few on the small sliver of hope that the brunette girl they'd seen wander inside was the double of Valerie they may be looking for, but in the end, get a big, fat, nothing. He did not want to admit that this maze was as good as it actually was. He heard Valerie yawn as well, over to his side, and he glanced over at her. She had a faraway look in her eyes, her hair had dried into a tousled mess, and she was currently wiping away the little tears that had gathered from the yawn. She looked exhausted.

"Maybe we should rest." He suggested, feeling like he was practically dragging himself along the pavement.

"I don't know. Should we? What if they find what they want?" She tried to look chipper as she spoke, but did an awful job. She was practically sleeping where she stood.

"If we haven't found it yet, I don't think an hour or two will make too much of a difference, whether we find it or they do. Maybe we can find another hotel." She just nodded to his suggestion, keeping pace with him, but barely. It suddenly came to his attention that there was a metal pole between the two of them. "Val-" Too late. She had walked into the sign post that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.

"Ouch…" She groaned, holding a hand against her forehead, where a red splotch was beginning to form. "Where the hell did that come from?"

"My guess would be Luther." Arthur stated, seeing that the projections were passing by the sign casually, but most were also giving it odd glances. That was a pretty good indication that it hadn't been in the design beforehand, but because it was minor, it still went mostly unnoticed.

"Jerk. Putting a sign right where I'm walking. What does it say?"

"It's a bus stop."

"Bullshit." She blinked several times, lowered her hand from her head and looked up, reading it for herself. Indeed, on top of the pole perched a blue-framed circular sign that read 'Bus' in plain block lettering. "Isn't that a little too convenient?"

"Maybe. And according to the route map, it only has one stop, which happens to be the library." He pointed to the plastic poster bolted to the pole, which was literally just a straight line indicating point A to point B, just above Valerie's head. That was lucky, because she likely would have managed to take out an eye on the thing if it had been any lower.

"I don't get it. Why are they putting a bus in that's going to take us to where we want to go? Shouldn't they be trying to keep us away or something?"

"They probably can't find what they want. They want us to go find it for them." Arthur said, looking up the street, where he could see the bus lumbering through the pedestrians toward them and the suddenly created stop. "The question is, do we want to risk taking the offer."

"Well…we can still find whatever secret it is and hide it ahead of time, right? I mean, at least this way we can stop walking around in a stupid maze and actually get somewhere."

"Or we think we can anyway. Who's to say they're not going to just drive the bus into a building and kill us?"

"We could always shoot the window and jump out. Come on Art, it has to be better to take this chance than keep wandering around like this. You said yourself that this could last for days, do you really want to keep wandering around until they steal something out of one of us?"

"You make a good point." He was silent for a moment, calculating, measuring the possibilities that the Extractors were just going to call it quits and off the two of them, send them to limbo, or maybe, if they were lucky, just wake them up. No telling what they would do in the event of them all being awake, but he couldn't think that far ahead in his current tired state. "Alright. We'll take the bus. But we get out of there at the first sign of trouble." She nodded in agreement, wringing her hands a little as the bus pulled up, the doors swinging open with a loud, hydraulic groan.

The bus driver, a heavyset blonde woman, stared at them with her eyebrow raised. At first, he thought that perhaps it was the gun still in his hand, but after a few silent seconds, the driver waved an impatient hand at them.

"Just cuz you brats get free fare doesn't mean you can hold up the whole damn schedule. Get on or walk."

"Uhm, why do we get free fare?" Valerie asked, taking a hesitant step onto the stairs of the bus.

"Lady, do I look like I make the decisions? Orders from the top, eh? Now get on, or get your foot out of the door."

"Okay, sorry." Valerie took the last two stairs in one step, turning back to roll her eyes a bit at him, as though rude bus drivers were not commonplace. He followed her, the gun held as well behind his back as he could manage. He had no doubt the driver would see it if she cared to look, and anyone with half a common sense would, but she didn't, and he wasn't going to argue with the, for once, good fortune.

The vehicle was empty, save for the two of them. The driver started the bus down the street before Valerie was even half way down the aisle, and she practically fell into one of the plastic seats before she was sent tumbling into the back. He maneuvered his way toward her, keeping his balance by sheer force of will, and plopped into the seat next to her, settling the rifle between their feet.

"Well, seems normal enough." Valerie stated, watching the street roll by through the large window.

"So far."

She looked over at him with a sudden smile. "You remember the first time I met you? It was on a bus just like this one."

"Just like this?"

"Yeah. I was even sitting in the same place. I was reading a book-"

"By Colin Bateman." He remembered aloud.

"-And you were running away from the cops."

"Private security." He corrected.

"You snuck on the bus through the back door, and sat in the seat next to me, you had a gun in your hand, so I was all freaked out, I thought you were like, going to go all terrorist or something. One of the guys chasing you got on, and you…how did you word it? I always forget."

He laughed quietly, hardly able to believe the first words he had said to her, even now. "I said: 'Ma'am, this is a matter of life and death, I need you to sit on my lap and kiss me'."

"Right! And I, of course thinking you're a psycho, do it. I thought it was like, my cosmic purpose to save a bunch of lives if I could just keep you distracted so you didn't shoot anybody. I must say, despite the fact I was scared out of my mind at the time, it was totally hot."

"And you did an excellent job of distracting me." He chided, leaning his head over so he was mumbling in her ear. "I don't remember much from that minute or so you were kissing me besides the fact you were wearing lime chapstick and a teal bra."

"You know what color bra I was wearing?"

"I peeked."

Valerie gave a short burst of laughter, which died when the bus driver shot her a glare in the mirror, but she continued to giggle for a few seconds, her face buried in the crook of his neck. "And the guy walked right past us, but we kept making out until we got to my stop, which I _almost_ missed, and then we got off together, and you were all casual, tossed the gun in the trashcan and then asked if I wanted to get a cup of coffee."

"Well, I didn't think it would be polite to just leave it at that after you had technically saved my life."

"Leave it? You didn't even tell me your name until like, six months later, when I found you standing on the steps of my apartment building."

"Didn't seem to bother you. You invited me in."

"I didn't think it would be polite to leave you standing in the cold after you went through all the effort of finding me." She smiled at him, mimicking his tone. She leaned against him, her head on his shoulder. "Why did you come find me after all that time anyway?"

"It's a cliché."

"Clichés can be good if they're used properly." She said, her inner-writer coming out. "Tell me."

"I dreamt of you." He met her eyes when she tilted her head to look at him in a confused manner. "I dreamed about you for weeks straight. It was driving me crazy. I didn't even know your name but I couldn't get you out of my head. People like me, Extractors, stop dreaming after awhile, unless we're using the chemicals. At first I thought I was losing it, but then I figured that if you were giving me my dreams back it had to mean something. I knew I had to find you again, talk to you, kiss you again. I had to at least know your name."

"Did it help?"

"I didn't want it to stop." He said, kissing the top of her head lightly. "I never wanted it to stop."

"You know Art, you can be incredibly romantic sometimes."

"I can't help it with you." He laughed against her hair. "You bring out the best in me."

The bus turned a corner, into a street that looked different than the rest, though he wasn't sure why. Valerie yawned against his shoulder. Her fingers found his, twining around his hand.

"What happens if you fall asleep in a dream?"

"It depends. If they have another level set up, we may go to that one. Or we may just wake up, back in reality."

"Can we dream our own dreams?"

"I don't know. Sleep a while, since we're not walking anymore. I'll wake you up if anything happens."

"But you just said I might go to another-"

"If you go down another level, I'll come down and get you. And if you wake up, you'll wake me up, right?"

"Well, I'd try, but-"

"Don't worry. You'll be okay, one way or another."

"I'm worried about you too."

"We'll be fine." He assured, kissing the top of her head again. At the very least, he hoped they would be.

* * *

So, another Author's note: Firstly, yes, I stole the kissing staple. I couldn't help it, as it seemed like an appropriate way for these two to meet. Secondly, yay, the action is finally starting! Stay with me dears and I will keep writing. Lastly, I forgot to mention this earlier, but if there is anything that is exceedingly confusing to you, and you would like immediate clarification, fell free to fire off an Email to me, and I will try to answer and explain to the best of my abilities. I won't give away any major plot points though.


	4. CounterClockwise, Chapter 2

**We All Move in Circles**

**Counter-Clockwise, Chapter 2**

The three-day limit she had given her stranger flashed by almost as soon as she had blinked. Not that she really just decided he didn't exist, but it was sort of like an abrupt throw-back into reality, the little spark having finally gone out. She was going to have to just accept the fact that she was likely never going to see him again, and would simply have to make due with the not-so-interesting variety of guy she had promised herself she would date, for safety's sake. Though luckily Christian had asked her about him the next day, so at least she knew she hadn't developed a suddenly apparent imaginary friend.

All the same, it had been over five months now with no word. She was more or less expecting to forget the whole affair. Which was a pity. She had tried to write it down once, recreate it in the form of a story, but for some reason, it had never felt quite right. At first she'd attributed it to writer's block, but when the problem stayed, despite her usual remedies for blockage, she decided the meeting must have been something truly cosmic. A one-time only sort of event, that could never be recreated. On the one hand, this made it something truly worth treasuring. On the other, she was bound to lose the memory of it someday, or at least, the details of it…eventually that day might be nothing more than a vague recollection of the major events.

"So, then, where do you want to go Valerie?" Came her friend's voice from the front seat, pulling her suddenly back into reality and the present day. Which involved her birthday, her two best friends: Cassandra and Lauren, the best cake she had ever tasted baked by Cassandra, and now, plans for a lot of tequila at whichever bar she wanted.

"We should go to Vi's. They have the best birthday deal." Lauren suggested, "And that way, Christian might finally get something for his months of crushing on you." She grinned at Valerie in the rearview mirror.

"Please. Chris does not have a crush on me. He's just nice to me because I'm always the one that tips him, unlike a couple of cheap chica's I happen to know." Valerie rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. Lauren just loved to toss men at her, it was her goal in life to find everyone else the perfect man. Never mind Lauren hadn't had a decent date in what seemed like years. "Either way, I don't really feel like Violet's. Besides, it's Friday. You know that's cougar night, and the last thing I want is to start a cat fight with some lady twice my age on my birthday."

"What's up with you? The last few times we've suggested Vi's you've turned it down. Usually you jump at the chance." Cassandra said, watching her in the mirror as the bright neon sign of Violet's passed the windows, as though thinking that as soon as she saw the sign she would change her mind.

"I dunno. I guess I just need a break from it is all." Valerie shrugged. More like she had a peculiar paranoia that if she went there she would accidentally replace the memories she wasn't quite ready to let go of yet. "Where do you guys want to go? I really don't care, so long as it's a bar."

"That's not the tradition Val, and you know it. You have to pick." Lauren insisted.

She sighed heavily and sat back, trying to think of where she wanted to go, running over all the bars she knew of. Her thoughts were interrupted by her phone, the shrill ring piercing through the music of the car. "Can you turn that down for a second?"

Cassandra nodded reaching for the stereo dial and she pulled the phone out, feeling the familiar sensation of her heart jumping into her throat when she didn't recognize the number. She tried to talk some sense into herself, really, what were the chances? It had been months for heaven's sake, but she couldn't quell the little prickling sensation of excitement and hope in her chest. "Hello?"

"Hey Birthday girl! Sorry, my phone died, so I'm borrowing a friends, what's happening later tonight?"

It was hard to keep the let-down sigh in, but she managed as she smiled to the voice at the other end of the line. Stella, another of the girlfriends she had met since moving here was _the_ party expert. She could take a math club and make it the most fun thing you'd done all week.

"Hey Stella, nothing yet, we can't decide where to go."

"She means she won't just pick a place." Lauren shouted, evidently hoping that it would reach Stella over the phone, and the music of whatever bar she was in.

"Yeah, basically."

"Well, I'm at that one flippin' pub we found a few weeks ago, remember it?"

"The sketch one that pretends to be Irish?"

"Yeah…fucking…uh…fucking O'Heaney's." Stella said it slowly, indicating she was reading it backwards off the window. "It's pretty lively, why don't ya'll come by for a few cold ones?"

"Careful what you say Stell, you'll make me start talkin' like a redneck again." Valerie laughed, letting a bit of her old drawl make it's way into her voice, just to make a point. "How's Irish work for you girls?" She directed to the two in the front seat.

"Stupid question Val, who doesn't love an Irish boy?" Lauren guffawed.

"I imagine we'll find several where we're going."

* * *

The pub had been nice. A little smoky and rowdy, but nothing that wasn't solved by poking one's head outside for a few minutes. Stella had ended up going home with some guy she'd been hanging out with before the other girls had gotten there, and Cassandra had gulped down way too many shots of Irish whiskey to be able to drive, so it ended up being just Lauren and Valerie for the drive home, Cassandra practically out cold in the back seat of her own car.

"So, have fun?"

"Yeah. Right up until you guys bought me a lap dance from a guy who was ten times the legal limit and at least 300 pounds." Valerie scoffed.

"Come on now, you were going along with it." Lauren laughed.

"Sure, until he fell on me anyway." Valerie snorted in response, whilst Lauren still had a good laugh at her expense. "Anyway, this is me. Don't bother going all the way into the parking lot, it's a pain in the ass to get back out of at night." She reached for the door handle as Lauren pulled the car to a stop. "Thanks for the night. It was fun. Really. I'll call you tomorrow and check on Cass-"

"I think you should maybe sleep at her place tonight." Lauren said, suddenly looking very serious.

"Uhm…why?"

"There's a guy on the steps there." She pointed through the passenger window. "I can't tell, but it really looks like he's looking at your apartment."

Valerie followed the trajectory of Lauren's finger, having to squint to see the blob of shadow that she seemed to think was a person. A car passing in the opposite direction, shone sudden light on the steps of the building. There was indeed someone standing there, and after a few seconds, she registered the nice suit and the perfect posture.

"Oh my god! Lauren, that's the guy!"

"The crazy one? Shit, let me get my phone, and we'll call the cops on his stalking ass-"

"No, no. Not that guy. The one I was telling you about. The one I met on the bus."

"You mean the one who hasn't called you in five months?"

"Well…yeah, but, dude, I never thought I was going to see him again." She reached for the door handle again, this time getting it open, cold night air pouring into car. Lauren grabbed her firmly by the arm.

"Val, think about this. You haven't seen him in forever, and you said you never brought him home. So how in the hell do you think he knows where you live? And why do you think he might be standing there? At this hour?"

"Lauren, listen, I know it seems bad, but he-"

"The next words out of your mouth had better be 'he's getting maced', or I really will call the cops."

"You're not my mother." Valerie pointed out. "Listen, I can almost guarantee that this is not what it looks like. He's the nicest guy you'll ever meet." Lauren tried to stare her down, and Valerie just stared back, immune to all her tactics after months of friendship. She also had a speech prepared about once-in-a-lifetime, "Serendipity" style love, knowing Lauren was a sucker for such things, just in case. But she could see it in Lauren's blue eyes as she finally crumbled.

"Fine. Fine. If you trust this guy, then it's on your head if things go south, got it? Just…promise me he won't stay the night, okay?"

"I'm not twelve."

"I know….but, it just seems like that would be asking for something bad to happen."

"Okay, got it mommy." Valerie said, swinging the door open all the way finally. "I promise I'll ask him if he's been tested too."

"Valerie I'm serious!"

"Stop worrying Lauren. Take Cassandra home, she needs to be babied a lot more than I do." Valerie shut the door on Lauren's snotty reply, which also involved a middle finger, and began her trek across the parking lot, feeling suddenly very nervous. What was she supposed to say? What could he possibly have to say after all this time? The soles of her shoes crunched on the frostbitten ground between the asphalt and the concrete walkway, but he seemed not to notice her, focusing very intently on her window. Or at least, the general vicinity of such. She vaguely wondered whether he had simply frozen in place. He had no form of overcoat on with his suit, and the blazer certainly couldn't have been keeping him warm in the February temperatures. She came within three feet of him, but still he hadn't noticed her.

"So uh, were you planning to just stand here until morning if I was in there sleeping?" She asked mildly. He jumped slightly, then abruptly wheeled around, grabbed her about the shoulders, and kissed her so suddenly, and so fleetingly, that she scarcely had time to react with anything other than a wide-eyed stare. Not to mention his fingers were so cold she could feel them through her jacket. He released her shoulders and took a deliberate step back.

"I'm sorry. This is going to sound really strange…but I had to know you were real." If that was his idea of an explanation, it was sorely lacking.

"You couldn't just…I don't know. Call me?"

His dark eyes focused on the ground. "I couldn't. I didn't take your number."

"Then…how did you find me?" She was starting to wonder if Lauren may have been on to something.

"You signed it with a V. There are only five people in this area with a first name starting with V. Two of which were named Victor. I just narrowed it down from there, and hoped the V wasn't for your last name. Because there were twenty of those." He shrugged, then looked back up at her, somewhat like he was lost. "I shouldn't have come here. I'm sorry."

"I don't mind, exactly. It's just…well, it's been awhile that's all. And I could have been inside fast asleep, and you would have frozen out here."

"I know. But I couldn't help it. I just…really wanted to see you."

"And now that you have, what do you plan to do?"

He stuck out his hand. "Nice to meet you. I'm Arthur." Finding this all very peculiar, but somehow not having expected much else, Valerie extended her own hand to his, giving his icy fingers a ginger shake, worried they were going to snap off.

"Well, Arthur, I'm Valerie, and you better come inside. I think you may have frostbite."

* * *

This was very, very awkward, almost more so than their first meeting. Valerie watched her Stranger, or rather, she supposed she could call him Arthur now, sit on her couch silently while she made them both coffee. For herself because she wasn't sure she was sober at the moment, and for him because she was fairly certain his poor fingers were going to fall off if she didn't give him something warm to hold. Arthur sat with his still near-perfect posture, his back not touching the cushions of the couch, staring at an open book on the coffee table with a vaguely-blank expression. Silence permeated the apartment, she swore she could hear him breathing when she wasn't making noise with the coffee machine.

"I'm sorry." He said again.

"For what?"

"To drop in on you so suddenly in the middle of the night. It's hardly appropriate."

"You're just lucky I was out at the time, or you would have been out there for hours."

"It was your birthday?" She turned sharply, about to ask how he had known that, but then realized there was a partially opened package sitting on the table, not four inches from the book he was looking at. The card sitting next to it was a pretty good dead-giveaway as well.

"Yeah. Tuesday. I'm not telling you my age, so don't ask."

"Happy birthday. I would have gotten you something if I'd known."

"Thanks, but, how would you know what to get me?" She asked, looking over her shoulder to smile at him.

"I don't know. I guess I would have just improvised. Given the circumstances though, it probably would have been a souvenir from the airport."

"Did you just get here?" She asked, surprised. He hadn't struck her as the sort to act on impulse, but if that were the case, that would likely explain his lack of a warmer jacket. And the fact that his luggage consisted of a carry-on overnight bag and a briefcase of some sort.

"Yes. From Crete."

"Crete? As in like, the Mediterranean?" She poured the coffee out into two of her mugs, non-matching, but she didn't exactly have fine china to break out.

"I was working."

"Oh? Stealing the future from the Oracle of Delphos?"

"What?" She turned to meet his slightly confused look, an eyebrow quirked. He was far too impeccably neutral to look truly confused, but it was enough that she could tell.

"Have you ever read "A Winter's Tale"? By Shakespeare? There was an oracle in Delphi back in the day. He was supposed to able to read the future and the past, and decided whether people were guilty of crimes they were accused of."

"I see. No, nothing that exciting I'm afraid. Just a basic corporate sabotage job."

"Sounds more exciting then what I've been up to." Valerie shrugged. "How do you take your coffee?"

"Whatever you're doing."

"Okay…" She didn't have a lot of background to work with, but it seemed to her that Arthur was acting very strange. He seemed nervous, fidgety, and perhaps a bit frustrated, though she couldn't figure what about. "Here." She carried the coffee into the living room, offering him a choice over which cup he wanted. He took the no-nonsense black one over the one printed with little colored seashells. Didn't that just figure? She settled in the cushion he wasn't occupying, absently sipping at the way too bitter coffee. But she was really trying to sober up, so the blacker the coffee the better. "So…what happened?"

"What makes you think something happened?"

"Well, I'm not stupid for one. I know there's got to be a reason, and probably a good one, for you to go looking for a girl you met once and spent all of three hours with." She sipped her coffee nonchalantly. He seemed to be very occupied with his, though he hadn't taken a drink. "If I say you can crash here tonight, will you tell me why you need to?"

Arthur slid her a sideways glance, looking equal parts surprised and grateful. He leaned forward and set his coffee on the table, then sat back, his hands on his knees, nodding in agreement to her request.

"There was…suffice it to say that something went wrong. Very, very wrong."

"In a dream?"

"Yes. Some things got into a dream when they shouldn't have been able to."

"How?" She questioned, not understanding the consequences of such things. She still barely understood the concept of controlling dreams to begin with.

He said nothing for a long moment, gazing at something in the corner of the apartment. "Me." He finally answered.

"What does that mea-"

"I haven't dreamed in nearly two years. But the last few weeks…I haven't been able to stop."

"You don't dream at all? Or you just don't remember it?"

"I'm not sure. No one really is. But…I don't know what happened. It should have been an easy job, it was an easy target. Either way, I must have let my guard down, because my dreams started to invade the dreamscape we had built."

"And that's…not good?"

"No. It's actually very bad when that happens. Not only can it mean risking the success of the job, it can affect the subject of a dream…pretty severely."

"What happened?"

"Think of it like trying to watch two movies at the same time. You're not sure what's really going on in either, you're confused, trying to pay attention to too many things at once. In the end, we had to drop it. I screwed up, and I cost us all an important deal. The whole team's on the run because I couldn't keep it together."

"So…you came here because…?" Not that she was trying to be rude, but it was very strange for him to come all the way back to America, just to turn up on her doorstep rather than see a therapist or something to that extent. And it was starting to sound like a therapist may be who he ought to talk to. "You said you had to know I was real. Why?"

"Let's just say…the lines between dreaming and reality suddenly became very hard to see." He practically mumbled the sentence, eyes downcast.

"Well…I know I'm real. So if my opinion means anything, you're back in reality now." She sat her hand over his, giving it a light pat. "Is touch the same?"

"It depends on whether it's a touch you remember or not." He glanced at her, then her hand sitting atop his. His fingers turned, clasping hers lightly. "I suppose I owe you a pretty big debt now. This is twice now I turn up unexpectedly and ask something of you."

"Could be worse." Valerie shrugged. "You could owe a debt to a crazy girl instead." She scarcely noticed he was still holding her hand until her phone began to ring and she stood to answer it, unwittingly pulling her fingers from his grasp. "Sorry. I just need to get that real quick." She stumbled over the words awkwardly, as a second bout of her ringtone further shattered what had moments ago been a fairly intimate atmosphere. She had half a mind to just ignore it, but she figured since she was already standing up, and the moment had already been spoiled, she might as well at least tell whoever it was to leave her alone the rest of the evening and shut her phone off. Reaching the counter she had tossed it down on, she examined the screen to see who was calling and felt her stomach drop. Of all the lousy…"Hello?"

"Hey Valerie! I just swung by your place and saw your light was on. I thought maybe I could come up and give you your birthday present."

"Patrick, listen, this isn't really a good time, I met a friend at the bar, and we're trying to catch up on old times, so, you know, I kinda wanted time alone." It wasn't exactly a lie, but it wasn't really the truth either so she still felt the need to be secretive about it, turning away from Arthur and speaking quietly and hurriedly, though he didn't really seem to be eavesdropping, or even vaguely interested, drinking his coffee like he hadn't just been telling her deep dark secrets.

"That's no problem, I'll just be there for twenty minutes tops. And I'm cool if we could arrange a little-."

"Really, It's not a good time for this." She cut him off, rolling her eyes at the typical male, especially the Patrick variety, behavior. "I just want to stay in and go to bed tonight."

"Come on Val, I just want to see my girl on her birthday."

"Patrick-"

"Really, don't worry about it, I want to see you okay? I'll be there in five." And that was the end of the conversation. Valerie huffed an annoyed breath at the phone, or rather, at the man who had been on the other line. He could be so dense some days. And pushy. Once he got an idea in his head, that was it.

"It's starting to sound like I should leave." Arthur piped up from the couch.

"No, you don't have to. It's just…I'm just going to tell him to leave. He wasn't supposed to be back until Sunday night."

"So who is this Patrick? If you don't mind me asking." She did a bit, when he used a semi-accusatory tone like that and had apparently been eavesdropping after all, but she answered anyway, if a little snidely.

"My boyfriend. Of a whole three weeks."

"Serious boyfriend?"

"Yeah, we're engaged and I'm having his baby." She informed sarcastically.

"Sorry." He seemed to realize she wasn't serious, but didn't exactly look thrilled either way. "Would you like me to go now?"

"Look, I said you can stay and you can Arthur. This wouldn't be the first time I had to shoo him off because he wants a booty-call in the middle of the night."

"Sounds like a nice guy."

"He is actually. He just tends to think with the head between his legs more often than the one on his shoulders. He can be really sweet most days."

"I'll trust you as a judge of character." Was his reply, though it was painfully obvious he wasn't happy about somebody else getting involved what had been shaping up to be night that was exclusively theirs.

"Just sit tight." She told him, with what she knew probably looked like a forced smile. She wasn't exactly thrilled that Patrick had come back from his biking trip with his "bros" two days early either. Not to mention that he had just happened to pick the road that went right by her apartment to drive home. She did feel kind of bad thinking these not so nice things of her boyfriend though, but it's not like they were "going steady" necessarily. It was more like a mutual agreement that they would only hook-up with each other for a while, pretty well strictly sexual most of the time. Of course it just happened that the one day Arthur had decided to mysteriously pop back into her life was the same night Patrick got an itch that he couldn't scratch himself. Fate was a funny thing.

Right on time, five minutes later, there was a knock on Valerie's door. She walked through the foyer and pulled it open, finding a well groomed and expectant looking Patrick, his brown-blonde hair just a little too long in that California-boy sort of way, his clothes casual but stylish, and a mischievous glint in his dark hazel eyes. For a moment, she was worried she would lose her better sense and invite him in. The fact of the matter was, Patrick was pretty damn sexy. He worked out, and it showed, along with the fantastic tan he had from all his outdoor activities. But she caught herself, and stopped the door so that only she was visible, though it wouldn't be that hard for him to look over her head and into the apartment.

"Hey babe. You look nice." He complimented nonchalantly, leaning in to give her a kiss and pushing the door open while she was distracted. Damn he was good. "So, where's this friend of yours? I'd really like to meet her. Is she- Uhm. Val. Who the fuck is this?"

Well, he'd spotted Arthur then.

When she didn't give him an immediate answer, he redirected the question.

"Who in the fuck are you?" He repeated, staring down at Arthur, who was still sitting innocently on her couch.

"I'm the friend."

"Hey, uh, you didn't mention it was a dude you had over." Patrick craned his neck to look back at Valerie as she closed the door with a snap.

"Well, you didn't ask." Valerie shrugged, twisting her hair absently and following him into the living room. "You didn't even really ask if it was okay for _you_ to come over. You just walked right on in." She's only gone over this same damn discussion with him four or five times. She didn't like unexpected guests. And she certainly didn't like uninvited ones. Arthur was obviously not included in this equation. For some reason.

"I was under the impression that you weren't seeing other people."

"It's not like that. He's a friend and he's visiting. That's all there is to this." She tried to explain calmly.

"That's not what it looks like."

"What's it look like to you then?" Arthur intervened rather hotly.

"It looks to me like you should be going."

"Sorry, I thought she told _you_ she was busy."

"Fucking little-" Patrick made a step as if to swing a punch at Arthur, but he was up off the couch in seconds, sidestepping Patrick with ease, the other man barreling into the couch. There was an unpleasant crack which Valerie at first worried was his neck or spine. But when he stood back up, looking beyond pissed, she realized it must have just been a board or spring in the couch.

"Quit it! Or at least take it outside!" Valerie yelled in vain; Patrick was a guy who didn't like to admit when he was beaten, and Arthur seemed to be getting his kicks agitating him. Though she had to hand it to the latter man, he may not look like much with his nice suits and relatively small frame, but he was damn good in a fight. Or at least in improvising. He hadn't even had to hit Patrick yet. He was doing all the damage to himself, trying to just catch Arthur who was more or less running circles around him. After a few more seconds of her uselessly shouting at them, and Patrick taking out one of her smaller bookcases, he managed to get a handhold on Arthur, grabbing him by his tie, and wrenching it tightly around his neck before giving him a right hook across the face.

"Let him go! Patrick, for Christ's sake, let him go or I swear I will call the cops on you right now!" There was the sound of fabric ripping as Patrick gave the silk tie one last point making jerk, before throwing his grip off, knocking Arthur back a few steps.

"What the fuck Valerie?" He demanded, staring over at her.

"You just tried to choke someone in my living room. How else would I be reacting?" She snapped, reaching for her phone, actually prepared to make good on her threat. She'd always known Patrick was one of those macho guys. But this had taken to a whole new level that she never wanted to risk seeing again.

"I only picked this fight because of you-"

"Oh, that's nice. Blame your girlfriend."

"Arthur, you're not helping." Valerie circled Patrick, giving him a wide berth, phone in hand, to stand next to Arthur, examining the damage done. He looked okay, all things considered. The left corner of his mouth was bloody, and already starting to turn purple, as well as a few splotchy areas on his cheek. His neck was an angry red under his thrown-askew shirt collar and ripped tie, but it didn't look like anything serious had been done. "Go get some ice out of the freezer, okay? This is going to swell something awful pretty soon." She brushed a fingertip over the blooming bruise as gently as she could. "Go on." She said, more insistently when Arthur didn't budge. He consented with a nod, keeping his eyes on Patrick as he went.

"Valerie, what the _fuck_ is this about?"

"Look, I told you that I would prefer you didn't come over. And this is why. I knew you would pull something like this the second you knew there was a guy here. I didn't think you were going to take it that far, trying to actually kill him though. And now I think it's best if you go."

"Go? Like, permanently? Are you breaking up with me? Because of him?" Patrick brandished a finger at the kitchen, where she could hear Arthur obediently opening the freezer.

"No. It's not because of him. It's because of you and what you just did. I want you to go. Now, Patrick." She pointed at the door like he was a five year-old.

"Fine. Do whatever the hell you want." Patrick put his hands up as if he were surrendering. "This was the only way this really would have ended. I think we both know this relationship we had was nothing more than sex."

"If it was, you should have no problems walking out that door."

"Tch. Bitch. I was going to call it quits tonight anyway." He stormed to the door, ripped it open and slammed it shut behind him. Well, good to know he was going to handle it like a mature adult. Just for good measure, Valerie walked across the floor and locked the door. She didn't want to take any chances of him coming back after he'd had a few, which she had no doubt he was out to do now.

This was one fine birthday this was shaping up to be.

In the kitchen, Arthur was standing over the sink, what was left of his tie sitting on the counter, holding an awkward icepack made out of a kitchen towel against his face. He eyed her as she walked to his side, leaning against the counter.

"I don't think you should trust me as a judge of character after all."

"Does he do that kind of thing often?"

"No, never. He's always talked a lot of shit, but he's also always weaseled his way back out of an actual fight. I think you're the first person he's ever actually hit."

"Well, don't I feel special."

"Yeah…sorry about that." She looked at the floor. "I uh…I hope you don't think too much less of me, for the company I keep."

"No. I hardly have the grounds to stand here and judge you. Or him really for that matter. I'm not the greatest company myself." Arthur tossed the rapidly melting ice into the sink, hanging the towel over the edge. "Sorry about the couch. And the shelf. I can pay for both."

"I wouldn't worry too much about it. The shelf was cheap and the couch was old. It was only a matter of time before they went on their own anyway." She shrugged. The awkwardness was starting to sink back in again. She could feel it heavy in the room.

"You're really quite incredible, you know that?"

"Huh?"

"You. You've jumped right in to help a total stranger twice now. I've never seen anyone willing to do that."

"Well…you're also not a _total_ stranger. Close but… at least I know your name now."

"Would it…sound odd if I said I wanted you to know more about me?"

"Depends on how you word it I suppose." Valerie shrugged, looking up from the spot that had been occupying her attention on the tile floor, turning her eyes instead to look at Arthur, who was looking right back. The un-injured side of his mouth quirked up.

"I don't have anything original at the moment. Will you settle for me asking for your phone number?"

"Arthur, you're a few steps behind. You're standing in my kitchen. I'd say we're a little beyond exchanging numbers."

"Is that an invitation?"

"Only if you're willing to take it."

"Very willing." He said quietly, leaning into the kiss she had been preparing. Want getting the better of her, Valerie's armed snaked around his neck and pulled him in further. He breathed out an exhalation of pain into her lips.

"Oh! I'm so sorry! I forgot you were hurt already…are you okay?" She panicked at her foolishness. What a way to ruin a perfectly good moment. She pulled Arthur's hand away from his face, where he had put it in an instinctive defense from further wounds. "It's starting to swell too. You'll have to ice it longer.

"Don't suppose you'll take a rain check…?"

She smiled, relieved to see he was taking the ruined moment in stride. "Hey, I've got all night."

* * *

Author's note: I actually have nothing to say for a change. All the same, enjoy. :)


	5. Clockwise, Chapter 3

**We All Move in Circles**

**Clockwise, Chapter 3  
**

"Valerie, will you please sit up straight?" An annoyed blonde woman, Sarah, swatted her on the shoulder as she spoke in a curt, agitated voice.

"Yes. Sorry." Valerie hurriedly straightened her back, finding the wooden stool terribly uncomfortable. She heard Sarah huff a sigh behind her, before carefully sticking a pin to hold together the bodice of her dress.

"Honestly Val, of all things, you would rip your dress the morning of the big day." Her younger sister, Sophie, shook her head, sitting on an identical stool, nursing a glass of wine a few feet away.

"And if you have another glass of wine before the ceremony even starts, you won't be able to stand at the altar without vomiting." Valerie's youngest sister, Danielle, quipped from the doorway, bustling in with what was unmistakably Sarah's sewing kit. Sarah was Danielle's significant other, and she was the best seamstress any of them knew. "Besides, it wasn't Val who ripped it, it was that sketchy dry cleaner you took it too."

"Well, excuse me for wanting our sisters dress to be clean." Sophie rolled her eyes, taking a swig from her wine glass.

"Except for it came back _ripped_." Danielle practically shouted, exasperated.

"Honey, will you go get me my thimble from the car?" Sarah interrupted, giving Danielle an encouraging peck of a kiss. The youngest of the three sisters sputtered for a moment, trying to come up with a good argument to stay and continue fighting with Sophie, but a second kiss from Sarah sent her scampering off, while Sarah pulled out the thimble from the sewing kit.

"Thanks Sarah." Valerie said, craning her neck to give the blonde woman an appreciative smile.

"It's alright. I know she's a handful sometimes. Keep your eyes straight ahead please." Valerie turned her head, looking at Sophie now, who tilted her eyes heavenward again.

"She's a goddamn brat is what she is." Sophie grumbled, getting up from the stool, the now empty wine glass in hand. "I need something stronger, Val, please tell me you ordered Vodka like I asked."

"Yeah…it's in the bar. But Sophie, that's supposed to be for the reception-"

"I need it now." Sophie snapped, setting the glass down on the stool, none to gently, and storming out in the flurry of silky skirt that made up her bridesmaid dress.

"Sophie!" Valerie rose to give chase to her sister, and was jabbed with a needle. "Ouch! Sorry Sarah, Sophie!" She made it to the door, but was stopped when she ran right into her mother, the girls father right behind his wife.

"Oh for heaven's sake, you three can't even stop fighting long enough for one of you to get married? We've been able to hear you yelling at each other all the way in the ballroom. You're going to scare poor Arthur off at this rate. Jonathan, will you go stop Sophie before she drinks herself into a stupor?"

"Sure. I'll be back in time to walk you down the aisle. You look very beautiful sweetheart." Her father leaned in to kiss his daughters forehead, before turning to jog after Sophie. Valerie pouted, she couldn't help it.

"Why is everyone else being so damn dramatic at _my_ wedding?" She practically wailed, throwing her hands up.

"I'm being dramatic because you won't sit still and let me fix your freaking dress." Came Sarah's voice from within the room, grabbing Valerie by the shoulders and more or less dragging her back, forcing her onto the stool. "Move again, and I'll poke you on purpose. With my scissors."

Valerie's mother wandered into the room, picking up the wine glass Sophie had left. "Has she been like this all day?"

"Tch. Only since she showed up; half an hour late at that." Sarah snorted, speaking around the pins and needle in her mouth, holding Valerie's dress together with expertise and pinning it into place, threading her needle without even having to look. "No idea what set her off though."

"She's just a little jealous. That's all." Valerie's mother sighed, and sat the wine glass where it would be less likely to topple over, on the vanity meant for the bride, which had ended up being the table for every odd and end any bridesmaid cared to throw there. "After all, she's the only one of you three to not have found their soul mate. Although, we didn't know about yours until you were engaged Valerie."

"Mom, don't be like that. I was getting a little old to have to tell you about my love life, don't you think?"

"I would have at least liked you to mention Arthur, casually even, before you announced you were getting married to him." The older woman sighed, looking suddenly teary. "I can hardly believe my little girls getting married."

"Let's just hope Sophie can quell the little green monster before the ceremony starts." Sarah said, tying the patch job off, before giving Valerie's shoulder a pat. "There, all done. Now, I know I said a torn wedding dress was a bad omen at the beginning of the day, but I want you to know that I'm really pulling for you two. Wine helps with cold feet. I'm going to go call off Danielle's search party. Tata, beautiful." Sarah gave her a sisterly kiss on the cheek as she headed for the door, her sewing kit in hand, leaving Valerie and her mother alone in the room.

"Hey…Mom, I'm sorry I kept him a secret from you guys. But I really do love Art. You have to know I do."

"We know you do sweetie, and he's a very nice man. I do wish you'd tell us how he proposed though. That's the best story for every couple."

"Well, it was…uhm…he…" Valerie stumbled for words. She knew, she had to know. But why couldn't she remember? A blurry thought flashed through her mind, telling her that it had something to do with a bus, but that was how they had met, wasn't it? Valerie rubbed her temple, trying to pull the memory out of where it was hiding.

Her mother frowned for a moment, then abruptly smiled again. "That's alright. I'm sure it's just nerves. Every girl is nervous at the last minute. You can tell us after we get through the hard part."

There was a knock on the door. "I know I'm not supposed to see you before you start walking down the aisle, but I thought I should let you know that Sophie's calmed down. Your Dad will be back in a minute."

"Thanks dollface." Valerie grinned, even though he couldn't see it through the door, the lack of her ability to remember the proposal suddenly didn't seem relevant.

"You best run along back to the ballroom Arthur," Valerie's mother suggested. "The ceremony's going to start soon, and I'm sure Danielle will want pictures."

They heard the retreating footsteps, and Valerie ran to the doorway. "Art! Wait a minute!" She opened the door just enough to poke her head out, while her mother twittered about tradition indignantly. He turned back to look at her, a bit surprised, and looking absolutely delicious in a tuxedo. "Come here." She crooked a finger at him, smiling.

He obeyed, hands in his pockets, leaning toward her, as though expecting her to share a last minute secret. She tilted her neck and kissed him.

"That's for good luck."

"Am I going to need it?"

"I hope not. Mom wants to hear the proposal story, can you tell her?"

"It was in a dream, remember? Right after the Fischer job."

Something smacked into the back of Valerie's consciousness. A dream? A dream? No. Arthur would never have proposed in a dream, he was far too serious about such things to do that. Now that she thought about it, she wasn't sure he was even the marrying type, not to mention she had no idea what "The Fischer Job" was, because Arthur never told her about the jobs. That aside, there was no way he _could_ have proposed in a dream. They had only ever shared one dream, the one where they were being extracted, and there was the dirty city, the pervert running the magazine stand, and the bus-

"I'm dreaming!" She realized with a gasp. "I fell asleep on the bus…this must be the lower level Art was talking about!"

"Valerie, what are you saying?" Fake-Art looked at her with utter bewilderment written all over his face.

"She's just a little confused, that's all. It comes with the nerves." Her mother spoke from behind her.

"I'm dreaming, and you are not my mother!" Valerie whirled around to face her, everything suddenly becoming clear. Her mother didn't know about Sophie's drinking problem, she and Danielle were keeping it a secret until she was done with A/A, there was no way she would have dealt with it so calmly, and she certainly would not have let Valerie have a wedding in a ballroom. Her mother was a very devout Southern Baptist, she would have insisted it be in a church. It all seemed so obvious now. "You're one of the Extractors, right? What did Art say…the Forger?"

Her fake mother spent a moment looking horrified, but when she found that she couldn't fake her way out of Valerie's realization, she smiled, abruptly melting into a tall, svelte woman with short black hair, her bangs falling over her blue eyes. "Well, I can see trying to get the information from your mind was a total waste. You don't even know about the inception, do you?"

"Who in the hell are you?" Fake-Art demanded, grabbing Valerie around the shoulders and making sure he was between the Forger and her. At least that part of the dream was right. Art was protective.

"Ugh. You're going to be a pain in the ass, I can tell." The Forger groaned, reaching into the pocket of the jacket she had been wearing while posing as Valerie's mother. "Stupid projections."

"What are you-" A sharp bang echoed around the room, Valerie couldn't help but scream as the blood flew, and he fell. She realized that it wasn't really Arthur, but the fact that she had just seen him get shot wasn't made any better by the knowledge. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block the tears, telling herself that she would wake up soon, and the real Arthur would be there, and he would be alive. But she still had to turn away from the body on the floor. "What in the hell do you people want out of my head?"

"We wanted to know about the Inception Job. Jake swore up and down that Arthur would have told you, and we knew we couldn't get it out of his head. But you see, Arthur, he's the best Point man in the business, and that means he knows how to keep things that matter a secret. I guess I should have known better, and checked it out myself. Oh well. I won't be making that mistake again."

"What's this job that everyone keeps talking about?" Valerie demanded, keeping her eyes on the other woman's face, and not on the floor.

"You really don't know? Not about Robert Fischer, not about inception? Arthur hasn't told you…anything?"

"He never tells me about jobs. In case something-"

"Like this were to happen. Figures he'd be _soo_ careful." The dark haired woman rolled her eyes. "Are you sure there have been no slips of the tongue? He hasn't given anything away?"

"No! And why does it matter if he did? What's the big deal about this inception thing anyway?"

"Oh, Jesus. You're almost as bad as a projection, you know that? Totally clueless… You have no idea what kind of person you're so head over heels for, do you?" The Forger took a few steps toward Valerie, before stopping just short of stepping over Fake-Art's body. "Well, honey, let me lay it out for that simple little writer's brain of yours. Before Cobb and his team used inception on the Fischer job, it was thought to be impossible. We need to know how they did it. We figured the Point man would be a good place to start, seeing as he had the most readily available outside source of information. You." She reached out and jabbed Valerie in the chest with the barrel of her gun. She took a hesitant step back. If she got shot, she would just wake up, right? "I mean, I don't know what the man is thinking, dating some average girl without even telling her how to fend off Extractors. Of course, he probably really thinks that not telling you anything will keep you safe."

"Well, it worked before you."

"Honey, no one wanted to try to top the best before me." She gave Valerie a nasty grin. "So here's the deal. I've invested a lot of money in this little venture, and I'm not a woman who likes to go home empty handed. So you're going to give me something good, something I can use to get into that sly little head of Arthur's. You're going to tell me the secrets that he tries to hide so carefully, or I'm going to send you so deep into Limbo, you won't even remember what reality feels like. Come on now." The dark-haired woman fired off a shot, it went through the filmy fabric of the skirt, barely missing her toes. Valerie felt herself gulp, but her legs didn't want to want to move, like the stiletto heels she had apparently been planning to get married in had sunk into the floor. When she said nothing, the Forger's eyes narrowed into a glare. "Tell me!" She practically screamed, getting up in Valerie's face, nothing but an inch of air between them. "Tell me how to fuck with him! I know he tells you things! He has to! I know he tells you things he hides from everyone else!" She raised the gun again, but this time it seemed as if she were going to hit Valerie with it rather than shoot at her. And suddenly, she found her legs again.

Valerie took a full step back, pivoted on the ball of her foot, and ran, yanking the skirts of her dress up so she didn't trip.

"Now now, remember, this is a dream Valerie. In dreams you never get away from what's chasing you fast enough!" She laughed, Valerie's feet began to drag, she pushed back with all her mental strength, telling her legs that it was a dream, that they could move. A bullet whizzed by her ear, she swore she felt it singe, the pain gave her a moment of clarity, her legs worked properly for a millisecond. She realized how to break the Forgers spell. Valerie bit down on her lower lip, hard, tasted blood, tears brimming in her eyes from the pain, but her legs worked now. The other woman screamed, the gun went off three times, she heard two land in the carpeting behind her. The third hit a person rounding the corner. The dream projection of Sophie. Blood sprayed, landing across the bodice of the dress, splattering across her shoulders and neck.

"Oh god…" Again, she tried to remind herself that it was just a dream. Her sister was alive in the real world, just like Arthur was in the level up. She had to get out of here, she had to wake up.

Valerie bolted around the corner Sophie had just come from, and was suddenly confronted by a congregation of Projections of people she most likely would have invited to her wedding. Somebody screamed.

"Oh my god! Valerie, is that blood?" The voice was Danielle's, or at least, it was fake-Danielle's. The panic ensued moments later, everyone began to scream and run in different directions. Valerie stared around the room and found what she was looking for. Large windows on either side of the altar. She pushed through the people all scrambling for the exit, somebody stepped on the train of her dress, ripping a good chunk of the fabric off, she ignored it and gathered the rest of it into a better bundle, not wanting anyone to drag her down or trip her when she was just feet away from the one escape route she knew she had. And she especially didn't want to waste precious seconds that were between her and crazy lady with a gun. She made it to the window, staring down into the tree-lined parking lot below. Not good. Only three stories. Would that be enough? She had never had to wake herself up this way, she wasn't sure what the protocol was. Art had said once that it was always a better idea to try and give yourself a Kick, which was what falling was, then it was to risk being killed by someone else in a dream. She decided to take his advice.

There were no latches on the windows, they wouldn't open the easy way. Valerie picked up the nearest solid object she could get her hands on, the bible from the altar, and threw it through the glass. The window fell away in shards, she knocked a few out from the bottom of the frame with her hand covered by the cloth of her skirt, giving herself a hand hold, and pulled herself up into the sill, feeling just the slightest bit of hesitancy now. What if she didn't wake up before she hit the ground? Would she die? In this dream, or the one up above, or maybe even back in reality.

"Don't you dare jump you little bitch!" She glanced over her shoulder, where the Forger had just busted through the door, elbowing people out of her way, waving the gun haphazardly in Valerie's direction, she fired once, the bullet hit the wall next to her head, startled, she lost her balance, falling out, into the open air. She screamed, not knowing what was going to happen next.

* * *

Arthur had just been starting to doze off when Valerie shot up without warning, drawing in a sharp gasp. He stared at her, while her eyes darted wildly around the interior of the bus, before they landed on him, and she practically launched herself at him, throwing her arms around his neck.

"Oh my God…oh Jesus…that was fucking freaky."

"Valerie? What happened? Did you dream-"

"It was so weird. My sisters were there, we were getting married, you and me, I was in a wedding dress and everything. You were dead! Some crazy lady…she killed you, or, I guess, the projection of you. But I had to watch you die…she said she wanted to know your secrets, and I just ran, and I jumped out a window and…oh my God."

"You went to the lower level?" She sat back, little tiny tears sliding down her cheeks, she rubbed at her eyes fiercely with her knuckles. "And you came back up here after you fell?"

"Well, during the fall, technically."

"You're a genius." He grabbed the sides of her face lightly and kissed her fast. "Come on." He stood from the bus seat, pulling Valerie with him by her hand, and ran for the front of the bus.

"What in the hell-" The bus driver demanded, staring them down in the mirror.

"We need to get off. Now."

"And I need a better job. Guess we're both outta luck, frou-frou boy."

Normally Arthur was not one who approved of hitting women. But, given the circumstances, and the fact that it was just a projection, he figured this was a situation where he could let it slide. So he socked the bus driver. The vehicle swerved out of control momentarily, they held on to the seats just behind the driver, still barely managing to stay on their feet, before sliding to a halt just seconds away from colliding with a tall building.

"You sonuvabitch bastard-" She started, holding her face. He wasn't listening, and he guessed Valerie wasn't either as she followed him out the door, down the sidewalk, to the front door of the building they had very nearly hit.

"Art, what are we doing?"

"You woke up when you fell. That means, sedation or not, we'll wake up with a Kick. We're going to jump."

"It can't be off something…smaller? I barely managed to jump out a window seven stories lower than this. "

"Just trust me." The door to the roof was stuck, not locked, just stuck, years of rust. Arthur rammed his shoulder into it, only to get a shooting pain down his left arm. Valerie found a loose brick in the corner. She broke the latch holding the door closed with a well aimed swing. "Show off." He muttered, rubbing his shoulder. She smiled, and they ran out onto the roof.

She leaned over the ledge of the building, staring down into the street. "I think the bus driver is calling the cops on you."

"It doesn't matter. We won't be here by the time they arrive." He peered over the roof as well, feeling a bit like he had vertigo already. "Ready?"

"I'm about to jump off a ten-story rooftop. Ready as I'll ever be."

"We'll wake up before you even realize you're falling."

"What do we do when we wake up? The Extractors can't be far behind us, right?"

"You'll need to pack your things. Quickly. Just the basics. Passport, some clothes, your laptop. We'll have to run."

She took a deep breath and climbed up onto the low wall that ran around the entire roof, he was right beside her. "Okay. Let's do this before I lose my nerve." She reached for his hand, he gripped her fingers tightly. She took another deep breath, and they jumped.

* * *

The customary Author's note: This was a bit shorter than the usual, but it had a lot going on so I figured it would be alright. As always, let me know your thoughts if you see fit.


	6. Clockwise, Chapter 4

**We All Move in Circles**

**Clockwise, Chapter 4**

Back in reality, what could only have been an hour after they had gone to bed, Arthur was up and awake, pulling the IV-like cord out of his wrist, and shaking Valerie, detaching her carefully from her own cord. They were wedged between two people on her bed, one he recognized as Luther, and the other looked vaguely like the one with the French accent.

"We lived?" Came Valerie's voice.

"We woke up." He nodded.

"My head's spinning."

"It's the sedation, sit up, it will wear off a little faster." He reached under her shoulders, lifting her up into a sitting position, she rubbed her eyes and seemed to be coming back to reality quickly. "Do you think you can pack your bag?"

"Yeah." She nodded, her eyes clear and focused, she climbed over Luther and went to her closet, yanking a canvas backpack up from the floor.

He slid off the bed as well, casting around for his bag, or the clothes he had been wearing when he arrived, whichever he found first. In the midst of the searching, he spotted the telltale silver case in the center of the floor. The cords led two to the bed, one to Valerie's desk chair a few feet away, where a younger man sat, his light brown hair shaggy, hiding most of his face, and the fourth led to a tall woman sitting on the floor by the door. She had a gun clutched in her sleeping hand, and a rather angry expression etched on her face.

Hoping to buy them time, Arthur fiddled with the clock settings in the case, adding on an extra half an hour, praying that it kept them under long enough to give he and Valerie a head start. But he didn't doubt that they all knew that they would only need a Kick to wake up.

"Here." Valerie handed him a bundle, which he guessed were his clothes. "Should I grab some cash too?"

"Yes. Good plan. They can't follow credit cards that way." She nodded, and walked back to her closet, standing on her toes to pull down a box from the shelf. She had pulled a pair of jeans and a light leather jacket on over her underwear and tank top, the backpack next to her feet, now accompanied by the laptop bag she carried which doubled as a purse. "Can you drive?"

"Yeah. I feel okay."

"They'll probably check the airports first, we'll take your car downtown, then take a bus to the train station and get the hell out of the city." She nodded silently, taking this whole situation in stride very well. He hadn't exactly been expecting hysterics from Valerie, but he had been prepared to deal with her at least being upset. The sun was starting to peek over the horizon, but they both could only regard it with tired eyes. An hour of sleep felt like nothing when you were running around the entire time. Their bags in the backseat of her sedan, Arthur watched the telephone poles dart past his vision, rolling his totem across his palm. He had tossed the die twice, just to make sure he really knew where they were, and both times it had landed correctly. Still, holding it made him feel secure. Valerie shot him a glance from the corner of her eye.

"What's with the die?"

"We call them totems. It helps me keep track of reality."

"How?"

"In reality, it always lands on the same number. It's loaded. In a dream, the results would be different."

"What number?"

"If I told you, the next time you end up in my dream, it may not work."

"Doesn't seem like a very good way to keep track of where you are if it's so easy to change."

"It's better than nothing. It's not a perfect solution, but I prefer at least having a totem between me and sleeping forever."

"I suppose…Art, there's something I want to ask you."

"Fire away." He kept an eye on the black SUV in the rearview mirror as he spoke. He felt himself relax when it turned off at the next block. Paranoia went hand in hand with this job.

"Do you have any crazy ex-girlfriends you want to tell me about?"

"Crazy ex-girlfriends?"

"Yeah. That woman, I think she was in charge, she seemed really…obsessed with you. She really wanted to get in your head, it was creepy."

"Honestly, I have no idea who she was. She wasn't exactly my type." The corner of her mouth quirked up a little. "As for the obsession, I'd say she's probably just as obsessed with you by now. Did they ever tell you what they wanted while you were in the lower level?"

"Mhm. They wanted to know how you and Dom did the Fischer Job, whatever that means. She kept asking me what I knew about inception. I said I didn't know anything, and that's when she started asking me about you. She said she wouldn't be able to get it from you, that's why they were extracting me."

"Inception? Are you positive?"

"She only asked me four or five times."

"That's bad. That's…really bad. I need a phone." She started to reach into her pocket for hers, but he shook his head. "I need one that can't be traced back to us. Do you know where we can find a payphone?" Cell phones were easy to track, he knew this from experience, having done it many times to get a fix on a Subject, and land lines would potentially endanger whoever the one they borrowed belonged too. The best way to go when you didn't want a call traced back to you was either a government grade secure line, which he was fairly certain they wouldn't be getting their hands on anytime soon, or a payphone.

"Sure." She clicked the blinker on and made a turn into a corner café.

* * *

Valerie stood at the counter, ordering two tall Lattes, which would be necessary later, he was certain. He punched in Dom's home phone, figuring his fellow Extractor had long since ditched the cell he used on business. It rang for what felt like forever, Valerie walking over with the coffee in her hands, sitting on the table a few feet behind him.

"Pick up…" He muttered, getting impatient. Another ring, and the receiver was finally lifted.

"Hello?" Came a little girls voice.

"Philippa? It's Arthur. Can you take the phone to your Dad please?"

"Hi Arthur! I think Dad's busy right now, can I take him a message?" She sounded like she had practiced the secretary-speak a few times before.

"It's important. Will you just tell him that I need to speak with him right away?"

"Okay. I'll go tell him. Don't hang up."

"I won't hang up." He promised. There was a clatter as Philippa set the phone down -none to gently- on a table, and a few moments later, he could hear her voice in the background, followed by Dom's voice. After a few more minutes, there was another clatter, this one farther off, followed by a muffled curse.

"James! What did we decide about leaving Batman where daddy would trip over him?"

"Philippa stole him!"

"I did not-"

"Just take him back to your room please. Philippa, you have your own dolls, you don't need to take James's."

"Batman's not a doll! He's a superhero!"

"Philippa, you don't need to take James' superheroes." Dom corrected, exasperated. There was the sound of little footsteps pounding down a hallway, and then the phone was picked up again. "Hello?"

"Sounds like being a full-time father is treating you well."

"So I've been told. What's going on Arthur? You know I'm out of the game. Permanently."

"That's not what this is about. I think you and the kids should take a vacation."

"Vacation? Why?"

"The Inception job's gone full circle. Valerie and I just got Extracted by a group looking for information on how we did it. They didn't get anything, but that doesn't mean they're going to quit."

"Valerie? You mean, _the _Valerie? Eames wasn't lying when he said you had a secret girlfriend?"

"That's not important right now." He could barely un-grit his teeth to say so. When he got his hands on Eames…

"Sorry, you're right. Do you know who it was?"

"Never seen her before. Tall, dark hair, team of four. She's a Forger who runs the operation. Anybody you know?" There was a pause where he assumed Dom was mulling it over.

"No. Must be a new group. There aren't a lot of people out there who would cross other Extractors though. I'll make a couple phone calls-"

"Don't. You need to get your family somewhere off the map. I have no doubt they're going to try to hit everyone who was on the team, so we all need to disappear. We'll worry about who we're dealing with after we know we're safe."

"Alright. We'll head out tomorrow. I'll tell Miles to send Ariadne somewhere for a project or something, and get in touch with Saito."

"Tell Miles he should probably take a couple weeks off too. And I'll get a hold of Eames and Yusuf." Arthur decided. Of course, Eames had been left to him. Sometimes he swore Dom just liked to see him get frustrated.

"Right. What are you and Valerie going to do?"

"For now we're just going to lay low, try to shake them off our trail and then get the first train out of here."

"How's she handling it?"

He glanced over his shoulder at Valerie, who was sipping out of one of the coffee cups, reading a poster which was tacked onto the wall near her. "She's fine. She's actually taken this all very well."

"Alright, well, you both be careful, okay? And Arthur, I'd like to meet her sometime."

"Sure Dad, I'll bring her up for Christmas dinner when this is all over."

"I'm serious." Dom laughed, sensing the sarcasm dripping from his voice.

"We'll see." Was his non-committal answer. It was one thing for Eames to have found out about Valerie a couple years ago, when he happened to glance over Arthur's shoulder in the midst of writing her, because no one had taken Eames seriously. It was another matter entirely to walk her around and introduce her to everyone on the team. Valerie was part of his personal life, and he didn't like it when his professional life started trying to mind-fuck his personal life. She was the one normal aspect he had, or at least, reasonably normal. He wanted to keep it that way.

There was a casual good bye, considering what they had just discussed, and Arthur set the payphone on it's hook carefully, it wasn't exactly a highlight of human technology. He turned to Valerie, who looked back at him with her lower lip between her teeth, a cardboard coffee cup on either side of her.

"Are you going to be okay?" He asked, setting his hands on her shoulders, she was tense, and her eyes had a sort of soft, about-to-fall-asleep look to them. Abruptly, she pitched forward, head butting him lightly in the chest. She stayed there, her forehead resting against him.

"I'll be fine. I'll be fine, so long as you're here so I know I'm not going crazy." She informed into his shirt.

"You aren't going crazy." He assured her, his hands slid down her arms, settling just above her elbows. "Then again, I might not be the best person to ask."

"We could always go crazy together." She suggested, hugging him around the middle for a moment. And then, as though all she had needed was the hug, she sat back, looking fresh-eyed and ready for anything. "So, we need a bus, right? Where do we leave the car?"

* * *

An hour and a half later, they were sitting in the train station, waiting for the eight A.M train to pull in and cart them off to San Diego. Arthur had figured a bigger city would be easier to hide in, and San Diego was the first place with tickets available.

Valerie wandered through the train station while Art looked for his other team mates on the Fischer job with her laptop. Probably why he had told her to bring it. She glanced out at the parking lot, where the sky was beginning to fog over, obscuring the sun. It was probably going to start raining.

_Great. At least we won't have to be out in it, like in the dream. _She thought, staring into the empty parking lot. Or, it had been empty. Now there was a van sitting in the corner of the lot. A red flag instantly went up. You didn't watch as much Law and Order as Valerie did and not learn a thing or two about suspicious cars. She backed away from the window quickly, and strode back over to where Art was sitting on one of the wooden pew-style benches, plopping down next to him.

"Something wrong?"

"I don't think so. But unmarked white vans make me paranoid."

"For good reason. Anyone get out of it?"

"Not yet."

"Sit here for a minute. I'm going to go have a look." He shuffled the computer over to her lap, and stood from the bench.

"But it could just be like, a plumber's van."

"It could be." He nodded. "But I'd rather check first."

"Art-" He was already out the door.

Valerie sighed and investigated whatever he had been doing to her poor computer. He had Google Talk open, a number put in, but not yet called. Valerie tilted her head, wondering who it could be. She really only knew Dom, and even then, she only knew him through Art's stories and what Miles told her. She had never been introduced.

_Well, when he was talking to Dom, he said he would get in touch with Yusuf or Eames. So this is probably one of them. I wonder which. _She was very, very tempted to hit the call button, though she knew she really shouldn't. Not to mention they'd been over the whole "tracing calls" thing, and she didn't want to be the stupid girl who was responsible for bringing all the bad guys to them. She stared at the screen for a few minutes more, and then opened her most recently created story, deciding that it would be more productive and cathartic to write while she waited for Art to get back from playing spy.

After all of a sentence was written, an electronic ring and a webcam window alerted her to the fact that whoever Art had been about to call was calling her. Well, couldn't very well hang up on the guy, could she? She accepted the webcam feed and answered the call.

"Hello- What's this? Arthur, have you gotten a sex change?" A light English accent questioned, a brunette man appearing in the webcam box, her feed appearing next to it, he was raising an eyebrow at her and looking a tad confused.

"No, Art's still a boy. I'm Valerie. Who are you?"

"Name's Eames, luv. So you're Valerie, eh?" He leaned close to his cam, eyebrows furrowed as he apparently examined her through the screen. "Well, I always wondered what kind of girl it would take to make Arthur write something romantic, and now I know. A bloody gorgeous one."

"Uhm…Thanks?" Write something romantic? What was he talking about? Did Arthur have him spell check his letter's or what? She felt a little flush creeping up the back of her neck as she wondered whether he read any of the ones she sent back.

"You're too good for him you know."

"And how would you know that? You don't even know me."

"Maybe not, but luv, I know _him_ better than I'd like. _Any_ girl as pretty as you is too good for him."

"Well, maybe I'm a horrible person who does terrible things and he's too good for me."

"Damn. And she's got a sense of humor too. Please tell me you aren't going to marry him."

"Not unless he proposes." Valerie laughed. She liked this guy. "So, Eames, right? Do you know anything about what's been going on?"

"I've heard through the grapevine that there may or may not be a certain group out to get those of us that worked on the Fischer job." He sat back in his chair, twirling a pencil in his fingers.

"You know more than the rest of us if that's the case."

"Do I now? Well, I'm sure that's just going to turn poor Arthur green." He grinned, obviously pleased with the idea.

"Well, how about you tell me, and I'll tell him, and I'll say I heard it through the grapevine too, and that way nobody has to hurt his feelings."

"Sorry darling, my biggest joy in life is getting the upper-hand on Arthur, you've got to let me have my fun."

"I can see you two must work together very well. How did you hear about what was happening?"

"Well, to put it simply, we're the best at what we do."

"We?" She questioned, she really felt like a five year-old, with all the questions she'd been asking the last hour or so.

"Cobb's team. We're the best Extractors. Somewhere along the line, they decided it would be a good idea to try and mix and match us-"

"Van's empty, they either left it, or it's just a reg-" Art appeared from nowhere, hovering behind her.

"Heeey. There's the man of the hour."

"Eames? What the hell are you doing?" Arthur demanded, leaning over Valerie's shoulder and fixing him with a glare.

"Hello to you too. I was just chatting with your lovely vixen."

"She is not- Why didn't you wait for me to call you?"

"Well, I'm not going to sit in front of a computer all bloody day, waiting for you when you run off to do who knows what, leaving your lady unattended while you're at it. It's only natural someone would start a conversation with her."

"I'd really hoped it wouldn't be you." He grumbled, walking around the bench to sit next to Valerie. "So then, what have you heard?"

"Well, had you been here, you would know what I've told Valerie. They want the details of Inception, as I'm sure you know. The rumor mill is a-running over here in England, the way I've heard it, two crews have already dropped into Limbo trying to recreate our venture."

"I've heard that. Didn't get much detail on it though."

"Unlike you and Dom, I have not been trying to go straight, so I've got details to spare, pet." Eames grinned widely, and Valerie could see Art's lip curl in the webcam window. But he said nothing, which Eames took as an invitation to continue. "The odd thing was, they were both put together by the same person. Don't know who, so don't ask. No one knows who it is. Eventually, they decided to go after us directly. And they even figured out the best way to go about it as well. A few days ago I was contacted for job, which I turned down, because, well, I don't like people who don't give me all the information right away, and when you told me about being extracted, something clicked. The time, the place, and the people all matched up. They're trying to set us up."

"They want us to go after the information from each other."

"Right. Because what better way to take down the top dogs than toss them all in the pit together, eh darling?"

"Anything else?"

"Now, now Arthur. I'm just a Forger. You're Mr. Smarty-pants Point man, if you want information, you'll have to look on your own." Eames said, leaning forward again, resting his arms on the desk in front of him. "After all, secrecy is your forte." His eyes darted pointedly to Art's left, which would indicate her. "Valerie luv, it was a pleasure to meet you, and I do hope we'll have a chance to have some tea together sometime and gossip about Arthur. But it seems that I must be going. This lad's going to want his office back as soon as he realizes there was no fire."

"Who's office?" Valerie questioned. The face Art made at her indicated that it was a question she should have kept to herself, but she hadn't been able to help it.

"Why, the Prime Minister's of course." Eames grinned again.

"Ah. Well, you better run before Scotland Yard comes after you, right?" She smiled, joining in the joke.

"They'd never be able to catch me, luv. After all-"

"You shouldn't believe anything Eames says. He's a compulsive liar." Art interrupted.

"Oh, I'm hurt. And I suppose that makes you Mr. Sincerity, does it Arthur? You told us all you had no romantic attachments!" Eames quipped.

"Shouldn't you be running?" Art snapped back.

"Too right. Cheerio darlings!" Eames disappeared into a square of black.

"He's cool."

"Don't encourage him. I mean it, if you get him started, he won't shut up." Art said, closing the Google window. "And he does so enjoy to show off for pretty girls."

"Well, it is kind of a nice compliment." She smiled when Art was silent, looking very interested in closing the word document next, not saving her one sentence sadly. "You're not jealous, are you?" He turned to her sharply, his expression a mix of trying very hard to hide something, and getting ready to argue the fact. "You are! Aw, Art, I've never seen you get jealous before, you're so cute!"

"How is it cute?" He seemed bemused.

"If you could see the little face you made, you would know just how adorable you are." She smiled wider, framing his face in her hands, before giving his cheeks a gentle pinch. "Besides," She added, smoothing back his always ridiculously neat hair when he looked about to protest the pinch, "-so long as you don't go around kicking the crap out of flirtatious boys, it shows you care."

"You know I care."

"Of course I do. But it's nice to be reassured once in awhile." She kissed him gingerly, teasing. Art's hand settled lightly on the back of her neck, pulling her closer for a kiss that involved a little more pressure, a lot more tongue, and tingles all the way down to her toes. He had never been one to take teasing well. His hand snuck under the hem of her shirt, and there was a loud cough from somewhere behind them. Art leaned back reluctantly, and the two of them looked up to meet eyes with an indignant looking red-headed woman, carrying a sleeping child on her plump hip, while she practically leaned over the back of the bench to stare at them unnervingly.

"If you don't mind, there are children here. I'd rather they not see such things." She informed curtly, her nose turned up at them just a tad.

Valerie was about to make the observation that there was only one child, and she happened to be sleeping, but the conductor announced at that moment that "Eight A.M. to San Diego" had just arrived, so she bit it back and helped Art gather the bags, while annoying ginger-lady wandered off.

"I hope she's not getting on the same train as we are." He grumbled.

"Oh? Did you have plans?" Valerie smirked.

"Ever seen the movie "Risky Business"?" She grinned in response, getting the feeling they were about re-enact one of the well-known scenes from the afore mentioned movie. The grin faded when she saw the red-head going toward the same platform as they were. Accompanied by all five of her children. Arthur audibly groaned.

* * *

Yusuf had been easier to find than Eames, which Arthur supposed he should take as a good sign. Eames staying hidden meant that he was doing his job, and staying out of trouble for a change. On top of that, not going for the Chemist yet likely meant that whoever wanted the details of Inception only had a basic understanding of the idea. They thought that it was a matter of skill and knowledge. While they may help sway the odds in your favor, skills and knowledge counted for absolute shit when things got really desperate. A lot of that job had ridden on just being lucky. Really damn lucky.

He closed Valerie's laptop with a quiet snap, glancing over at her, asleep against his arm, her head titled toward the window. It didn't look very comfortable, but she had been dozing in and out of sleep for the last hour, he figured he should let her get a few minutes while she was able. She had mumbled something about nightmares the last time she had woken up. He had a few experiences with nightmares, and knew it was better to let her rest when she wasn't having them.

One of the red-headed woman's children ran through the car, literally just screaming, disturbing the peace of the empty car. He could hear the mother yelling for the kid to come back, but she was ignored, and the child ran on. He wasn't pursued, Arthur noticed grimly. No doubt he was up in the front of the train by now, screaming at the engineers and they would all soon be plummeting to their deaths when the operator tried to deal with a hyperactive child. Good way to end this day.

The screaming had roused Valerie, she straightened up and rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. "You know, I just realized, I haven't called in to work. You think they'll fire me?"

"It would be better if you don't. They knew where you live, they definitely know where you work. They'll probably have an eye and an ear on it until they realize we're gone."

She yawned in response, looking out at the bright sunlight bouncing off a river winding along the side of the tracks. "Kind of a pity. It was a really good job. Oh well. Nice view." She added, gesturing to the window. There was a mild silence, where she looked out the window, and he observed her profile, sensing she was about to say more. "I've got a question I've wanted to ask for awhile."

"What about?"

"About inception. What is it? I've been hearing that word a lot the last few hours, but I have no idea what it means in the sense of dream sharing."

"The simplest way to put it, is that inception is the opposite of extraction."

"So…you put information in, rather than taking it out?" she ventured.

"Basically. But the concept is to generate an idea in the subject's mind, not just put the information there. Theoretically, it was supposed to be impossible, but we, of all people, managed to pull it off." He supposed that there was no longer any reason to hide it from her. She would likely be told eventually anyway, whether by him or she asked someone who would spill the beans. Like Eames.

"On the Fischer job."

"Right. Personally, I think it had a lot to do with Dom's insanely good luck, but, either way, so far it's been the only inception where the idea actually lasted when the subject woke up and that hasn't resulted in…consequences for the subject."

"It's dangerous then?"

"It depends on the idea. It hasn't been done enough to be fully understood."

"Isn't that a little…I dunno, messed up?" She asked, sitting back with her hands on her knees. "I mean, that's like using a drug on someone when you've only had one good test and one really bad test. Besides that, doesn't it seem scary to be able to have that kind of power over someone? You could more or less brainwash them, couldn't you? Make them do horrible things?"

"Do you think I would do that?"

"No. But…it just seems so…bad."

"And stealing ideas from people's minds is the act of a good Samaritan?"

"I'm not saying it's good. But if you had to do one or the other, I'd prefer you pick the one that doesn't involve completely changing someone's reality."

"One idea doesn't change reality."

"You don't know that. What if someone gave me the idea that I didn't love you anymore? That would change both our realities, wouldn't it?"

"It's not that simple-"

"Exactly. It's not simple. How can you predict what's going to happen when you do that to someone?"

"I can't, okay? I know it's a bad idea, believe me, I know. I didn't think it was even going to work. But it did, and Robert Fischer came out of it not even knowing the difference. I don't plan to do it again, but we had to try it."

"I'm not trying to pick a fight, Art. Inception just…it sounds too much like something that would be in "1984", you know?"

"Well then, just call me Big Brother." Arthur said, rolling his eyes a little. She really wasn't trying to pick a fight, but it sure seemed like he was. He hadn't even approved of trying inception, and yet, here he was defending what they had done. It didn't even make sense.

"Okay, okay, sorry. We won't talk about it then." She sounded annoyed and put her hands up as though indicating surrender, sitting back in her seat and staring out the window.

They didn't talk about inception. In fact, they didn't at all for the next two hours. Arthur found it bothersome. He got the feeling that they had both tried, several times, to talk, but each time it fell through, as if they were both still a little mad at each other. He passed it off as they were both tired and it was making them grumpy. That didn't mean he was happy about it though.

Valerie stood, said she was going to get another cup of coffee and slid past him into the aisle, vanishing through the door at the end of the car. He blew a breath out through his nose, not quite a sigh, but close. What a time to be fighting. Especially considering it was the second fight they'd had. Ever. He didn't believe in fairytale romances, but he did believe in happy ones, and they had that. Usually. He leaned his head back against the seat, watching scenery dart by the window. Maybe, if this was all stemming from lack of sleep, he ought to take a nap. He could try to talk to her again when he woke up. Deciding it should be so, he adjusted himself a bit, finding a more comfortable way to sit, and let himself start to doze off.

And it suddenly occurred to him that Valerie had said she loved him. Perhaps not directly, but all the same, the words had been there, and so had the feeling. Three years was a long time to go without saying the big "L" word to each other, though if he thought about it, the time they actually spent together barely added up to six months. Although he was fairly certain he'd been in love with her since the first time they had spoken, and now he had to wonder if it was the same for her. Was that why she had invited him in when he had shown up out of nowhere? Was that why she hadn't seen anyone else since they had met? Was that why she didn't want to think of him as a criminal? There was only one way to know, and that was to ask her.

* * *

Author's note: And that's that. From here on out, I actually have to start writing in order to update, so they may be slower. Don't worry though, it'll happen eventually. Also, I took out all the crap in the top. That's pretty well irrelevant these days. :)


	7. CounterClockwise, Chapter 3

**We All Move in Circles**

**Counter-Clockwise, Chapter 3**

Valerie was somehow unsurprised to wake up alone. Perhaps it was all a dream? A horribly convincing alcohol induced dream? But she could still feel just a trace of warmth on the sheets under her arm, and there was still the faint scent of the cologne that she remembered Arthur had been wearing clinging to her skin. She hoped that would qualify as evidence that she was in reality. Valerie rolled to her back, glancing around her room. Her clothes were tossed around haphazardly, and she spied a men's shirt at the end of the bed, she sighed. Good. That had to mean she wasn't totally delusional. She sat up, stretching her arms, and heard a crinkling sound when she sat her hands down on the mattress. A note. It was short, not exactly sweet, and to the point, written in neat print which somehow seemed to suit Arthur perfectly. She perused it lazily.

_Valerie, _

_Went to get us some breakfast. Don't get up and don't get dressed. It's still a weekend after all._

_I'll be back soon. _

_-Arthur_

"Well well, expect me to be at your beck and call, do you Arthur?" She said aloud, laughing quietly to herself as she fell back against her pillow, pulling the blankets up to her chin. Not that she wasn't inclined to agree with him of course. After a few moments of debating whether she would fall asleep again, Valerie sat once again, deciding she wouldn't, her legs tucked under her, the sheet pooling at her hips. Bracing on a hand, she reached for the shirt hanging on the end of the bed, examining it.

_Looks expensive._ She thought absently, running her finger over the tag, which was in a language she was fairly certain was Italian. Felt expensive too, the fabric soft in her fingers. She smiled down at the shirt in her lap. If nothing else, at least she'd finally managed to bring home a guy with good taste. Her Southern Mother would be so proud. Again, she couldn't help but snicker aloud. Yeah right. Her Mother would shit a solid-gold brick if she knew Valerie was sleeping with men without dating for at least six months. She was as old fashioned as you could be without living in the Stone age, and still seemed to think Valerie was a thirteen year-old virgin. _Well,_ Valerie thought, holding Arthur's shirt up by the shoulders, _-I've always wanted to see what about wearing a boyfriend's shirt is so appealing. He's not exactly my boyfriend, but I suppose this is as good a time and as good a circumstance as anything else that will come along. _She stuck her arms through the sleeves and did up a couple of the buttons. _Mhm. Super-soft. _She couldn't resist a tiny little giggle and a happy little squirm. Maybe the movies knew what they were talking about after all.

About this time, she heard the front door to the apartment open, and some rattling in the kitchen. Moments later, Arthur appeared in the doorway, his bruised cheek looking a bit yellow, but at least it was healing up already, balancing two cardboard coffee cups on plates from the kitchen in one hand, and a box bearing the name of a bakery a few blocks away in the other. "Breakfast." He announced, crossing the floor to sit on the edge of the bed next to her. "Like my shirt?" A smile perked his lips up.

"Mhm." She smiled as well, taking the cups so he could set the plates down.

"Then you can keep it."

"What? But Arthur-"

"Don't worry about it. It's not like I really need it. Go ahead and keep it."

"Thank you." Her smile widened. "And thank you for breakfast in bed too."

"I wasn't sure what you like, but I was hoping crepes would do."

"As long as it goes good with coffee, it makes a good breakfast."

"Strawberry?"

"Perfect."

"Excellent." He opened the box, which had forks hidden on top of it, and served them each up a plate of the most picturesque crepes she'd ever seen. "Cheers." He took one of the coffees from her and held it toward her, to which she responded with a tap of her own cup. There was a short period of peaceful silence, where they ate and watched each other at intervals. Finally, Valerie spoke something that had been hanging in the back of her mind.

"You know, I still can't really decide whether you're a figment of my imagination Arthur."

"What do you mean?" He raised an eyebrow at her.

"I guess…you're a little too perfect, you know?"

"Perfect?" The word came out as a scoff. "I hardly think I'm anywhere near perfect."

"No. I mean it. You've got like, this flawless combination of mystery and danger going on, but at the same time, you've got a sort of "prince charming" air about you too, you're a perfect gentleman. Not too mention, on top of all this, you are a _great_ lover. It's like you're a character straight out of a Nora Roberts novel. It makes me worry that you might be. That you just exist in my head."

"If I was only in your head, could I have brought you breakfast?"

"Well…no. I suppose not." She said, nodding in agreement with him.

"And trust me when I say I'm not perfect. I've got plenty of flaws, just like anyone else."

"A flaw is just something unique. They make you appeal to your soul mate."

"And how do I appeal to you?"

"Art, I made love to you last night. Three times. You appeal to me just fine." She laughed.

"Art? I have a nickname now, do I?"

"I…guess you do." She said thoughtfully, having not realized she had dubbed him such. "Do you mind?"

"No. Assuming it's affectionate of course." He smiled, finishing off the last of his coffee.

"Very affectionate, obviously."

* * *

Valerie's email was empty of anything meaningful. And by that, she meant that Arthur hadn't responded to the message she sent two weeks ago. Of course, he'd also changed his address. Again. Two hours after she had sent it, the name he'd been using had announced itself deleted. She sighed, suddenly feeling quite disheartened, staring blankly at an ad for a diet pill on the side of the screen, her chin in her hand. She wondered if he'd checked it first. Probably not. Someone had most likely found it was attached to him and he hadn't had time. She'd just have wait until he remembered he had a lonely girl sitting in front of computer for an hour a day, waiting for a reply to magically surface, and then he'd send her one from a new account that she'd never recognize.

"Ugh. Long distance blows." She groaned at the skinny girl in the ad, before shutting her laptop screen in irritation. It was sad really, how lonely she got when he was working. It wasn't like she didn't have friends and family or anything, but she liked it when Arthur was around. She wondered where he might be right now. Last time she'd heard, he had been in the U.K., with his team, as he always called them. She knew that one was Dominic Cobb, and the other was just Eames. Other than that, she hadn't a flipping clue about anything or anyone. She walked a small circle around her living room, trying to decide what to do with herself. She debated calling Lauren or Cassandra, but dismissed the thought. She was never someone who called 'just to talk', and that would really be all she was doing. They had plans tomorrow night anyway, so she ought to save all her talking for the girls night out. Finally, she just threw herself on the couch and turned on the T.V.; commencing the search for a movie to kill some time.

_Guess I can't complain too much. At least he keeps in touch as often as he can. God knows someone else looking in would think I'm just a booty-call. _She thought mildly, curling her body around a pillow in her lap, still channel surfing blankly. She had entertained that possibility more than once. That all of the three total times she'd seen Arthur, he had wanted something very specific from her. But something just told her that was wrong. Maybe it was just her feelings for him -which mostly consisted of inexplicable affection- biasing her point of view, but she just knew there was something there. There had to be a reason they were both going through all this effort, jumping through all these invisible hoops. There had to be something behind the little hooks in their hearts that kept dragging them back together. _On the other hand, it would be really nice to able to just call him. Like a normal person. _She added, pausing for a moment on HBO, where they were playing some new blockbuster. It lasted thirty seconds before she remembered she couldn't watch depressing dramas alone, and moved on. _I guess I was asking for it anyway. I knew he could be trouble, but I had to pull the usual romance-novel heroine move and fall for him anyway. Only thing missing is the plot-twist where we discover we're from different sides of the tracks, or one of us has a horribly twisted sexual past that we can't overcome to be together. Ha. I should write this down_. Come to think of it, she really only had one sure-fire way to ease loneliness of any kind, or any other emotion really. And that was to construct a fantasy world, where her character dealt with it or didn't suffer such things.

She rose from the couch, and walked back to her still running computer, and opened the screen. She would compile a romance. She and Arthur would be the characters. If they were on paper, or, in this case, in the screen, she could shape events however she wanted, they could spend every moment of everyday together if she so pleased. All she had to do was create the world of her story. She settled herself into her chair, and her fingers began to fly, working their magic. Somehow, putting her feelings into made them simpler to understand, or perhaps, by trying to do so, she was forced to sort them out and actually look at them. She was never quite sure how the method worked, but as long as it did, she was content.

Her character was in love with the character equivalent to Arthur. She was fairly certain she was in love Arthur. The character equivalent of herself was considering leaving the character-Arthur as a test, to see if he would come find her. She, however, was not debating breaking up with Arthur. They weren't really dating, so it would be kind of hard to break it off for one, and for two, she knew Arthur would find her, because he already had. The characters were torn between their two distant lives, neither wanted to sacrifice successful careers or good friends, despite their mutual feelings. There, she got stuck. She could sacrifice, to a degree, to be with Art. Or so she thought now. But if he ever asked her, really asked her, she wasn't sure if she would be able to say so then. And what if it ever came down to her having to ask him? She still knew so little about Arthur and his life. What would she be asking him to leave for her? Would she be worth the exchange?

* * *

Arthur sat idle in front of an open laptop, balancing his chair on it's back legs, one foot dangling toward the floor, the other propped up on the desk. It was late. He ought to be sleeping, like every one else. Or maybe, trying to dream in Cobb's case. But he couldn't. He read what he had written again. 'Dear Valerie…'

And that was it. Well, that couldn't do. He let his chair down, and set his fingers on the keys, typing: 'Sorry I've been gone so long. I miss you, I miss being with you and hearing your voice when I wake up. I love you and…' No. Now wasn't the time to get into that. He promptly deleted the last sentence. It wasn't that he didn't, which was odd in itself, but that it seemed a lot less meaningful written out on a computer screen. He propped himself back up on the two legs of his chair, staring at the screen. Was it odd for him to have fallen so quickly? So suddenly? The dreams had been one thing. He really thought he had been losing his mind for a few days there. For a while, he hadn't been able to remember if he had actually met the beautiful brunette making herself right at home in his mind, or if she was only in his dreams. After he had found her again, seemingly by a stroke of insanely good luck, in what he had been absolutely positive was reality, he had suddenly fallen head over heels in love with her. Hence he had kissed her the way he had. He was usually far more…romantic than that. But to write it? To tell her? He couldn't seem to work up the necessary nerve.

"Pathetic." He grumbled at himself. Was it really so hard to write a letter? He leaned his head back in the chair, looking up at the ceiling. They had managed to secure themselves a nice, undeveloped office building for a change, rather than the customary warehouse. Arthur infinitely preferred it, as it had certain amenities that warehouses lacked. A restroom for instance, power outlets, windows, and of course, a small amount of privacy. Not much, as the doors hadn't been put in before they rented it, but there were at least walls between them. He could have theoretically been trying to write this letter in his hotel room, but he knew Cobb had been sleeping here, and he wasn't about to leave him alone with the dreaming chemicals. He was never quite sure what that man was up to until after he'd dragged everyone else in with him. His ears caught stealthy footsteps around the corner, and he dropped the front legs of his chair to the floor.

"Damn. Did you hear me?"

"You couldn't be quiet to save your life Eames."

"Tsk. Well, one of these days you're going to be doing that and I'll knock the legs out from under you. Just wait, I'll get you sooner or later, Arthur dear." Eames grinned, leaning on the doorframe. "What have you been up to back here?"

"That's not any of your business, is it?"

"Well, it certainly could be, if you're starting to end up with a bunch of murderous memories, like our friend Cobb."

Arthur's eyes narrowed. Had Eames seen what had been happening to him on the last job? Had Eames been able to see his dreams about Valerie interfering with the dream world they had been in? He thought he had sufficiently adjusted the dreamscape to blend it in, never mind it had eventually taken so much editing that the subject's projections found him, but there was a slim possibility that Eames or Cobb or the Architect they had been using had spotted the other dreams.

"It's nothing like that. I'm fine."

"Hm." Was the non-committal reply. He had the feeling the Forger knew more than he was letting on about. Eames crossed his arms, staring Arthur down. He didn't realize what he was actually looking at until it was too late. "So…who's this Valerie that you miss so terribly much?"

He slammed the laptop shut, but knew it was already too late. The secret was out. "It's nothing." He lied anyway, compulsively.

"Oh? You writing from the heart is nothing is it?" Eames was grinning like the Cheshire Cat, knowing full well he had Arthur in the proverbial headlights. "S'a girl, isn't it? You've got yourself a lady friend you're hiding."

"Leave it alone." Arthur snapped, standing and gathering up the computer. Forget worrying about Cobb and his overuse of dreaming chemicals, he was going to go finish mailing Valerie somewhere where he would be left alone. Eames blocked his way.

"What's the big secret, eh? If she's just a girl, she's just a girl. Nothing worth hiding away."

"Move."

"Aw, has little Arthur gone and fallen in love?"

"What will it take to make you drop it?" Arthur demanded, irritated beyond reasoning to just turn around and use the other exit in the room.

"Just tell me this. She isn't going to be another Mal, is she? Because I _know_, and Cobb knows, that she's what was getting to you last time. It's bad enough to have one psychopathic woman ruining things every chance she gets, I won't be sticking around to deal with another."

"That won't happen again."

"Funny. I believe we hear that all the time from Dom."

"Well, it won't. I know what I'm doing."

"You better Arthur. We can't afford too many more screw-ups and expect to keep our jobs, or our heads for that matter." Eames said, giving him a meaningful look as he turned and disappeared out of the room, probably off to his own hotel room somewhere in the city. Arthur glowered. Firstly because he didn't doubt Eames would soon be spreading gossip, secondly, because he was right. He had to get this under control. He had to get his dreams back under his own thumb, not the whims of his libido.

* * *

She had sounded incredibly excited whilst buzzing him in. It made Arthur smile a content little smirk. He couldn't say he'd ever gotten such a nice reaction to a surprise visit. Given, most of his surprise visits involved dreaming drugs, thievery, and guns; certainly not roses. Brilliant red roses that he had picked out very carefully, for just this occasion. Tomorrow would mark a year since they had met. She had been expecting him late tomorrow night, but he, in the spirit of romance, had wanted to do something to surprise her, and had jumped on the earliest plan he could manage; he had wanted to really make an effort for this anniversary of sorts.

"Arthur!" She practically leapt through the door to throw her arms around his neck, a big, bulky sweater engulfing her entire torso in a blob of navy blue. He'd never really thought of oversized sweaters as sexy until now. That being said, she also had no pants on. "I feel like I haven't seen you in forever!" She pressed a kiss to his cheek, somehow finding him hidden in the mass of yarn that made up the garment.

"It's only been three months." He soothed, though he knew he didn't really have to.

"But I missed you." She made a show of pouting.

"Well, I'm here now, you can do whatever you want with me." He grinned into her hair, wrapping his free arm around her middle. "These are for you." He added, suddenly remembered he had flowers. She took them delicately, smiling widely, first down at the roses and then at him.

"Nobody's ever brought me flowers before."

"Call me old-fashioned. I remember telling you I like to be romantic."

"You really know how to make a girl fall for you, don't you?" She asked coyly, leaning to kiss him warmly.

"Don't suppose you could put something nice on?"

"You don't like my sweater?"

"I love your sweater. But it's not appropriate for dinner. I'm finally going to make good on that." He informed, letting her walk him through the door, carefully trying not to tread on her bare feet.

"Is that why you're wearing a tie?"

"I like wearing ties."

"Well, I was sort of expecting you to be naked by now." She laughed, nuzzling at his neck.

"I take it that's why you're not wearing pants under the sweater?"

"I'm not wearing anything under the sweater, dollface." She whispered it coyly into his ear.

"Hm…tempting." He was just about to suggest they forget dinner, as it was clear they had plenty of other things to do, when she abruptly released her hold on his neck.

"I was actually about to take a shower. I can be ready in half an hour?"

"Well, I-"

She grinned at him. "You didn't think I stripped just for you in the time it took you to get to the door, do you? I'm only naked because I was getting in the shower. I'm not a nympho after all, you have to romance me a little before you can get me back in bed." She stepped around him, heading to the kitchen. "Just let me put the roses in water, and we can do this like a good and proper date." She kissed him on the cheek again on her way back to the bathroom. He watched her go, heaving a sigh.

"Damn."

Somehow or another, Violet's was miraculously unpopulated. Or at least, the restaurant division of it was. The bar was absolutely packed with middle-aged men and women who had donned all the Seahawks gear they could manage at one time, roaring at the three TV's playing the game. Arthur and Valerie didn't really have a problem ignoring them though. They were situated in their corner table, heads bent together, talking, laughing, looking like any other couple would in their situation.

Food was unimportant, they were more interested in conversation, as they had a lot to catch up on. Valerie recounted what had been happening in her life the last several weeks, and Arthur told her what he could. He still didn't fell quite…comfortable telling her explicit details of his job. Partially because if it became a matter of someone else asking her about him, he didn't really want her becoming an accessory to his crimes, and secondly, because he didn't want to ruin this "nice-guy" ideal she had about him. It wasn't the same as lying. It just wasn't. He was a nice guy. But he could get nasty when he needed to, just like anyone else. He wasn't sure how she'd take knowing just how bad it could get though.

"Have you ever thought about what else you would have done?" She asked suddenly, prodding at the salad she'd ordered. She really did seem to get it every time. Even when he had asked her to order something expensive, because he really felt like he owed it to her, seeing as she had ended up paying for it the last time they had gone out for a meal.

"I don't know. I guess…some days I do. I never come up with anything specific. Of course, I started in the business pretty early. Once you're in, it's hard to get out."

"Like the Mafia?"

"No. Not quite." He smiled. She always seemed to have some sort of outlandish explanation waiting in the wings. "It's more like…once you learn about sharing dreams, you never find anything else that's as…exciting."

"So you're saying you're an addict?"

"I don't know if that's the proper term. But it's close." He thought momentarily of Dom, sitting alone somewhere and trying to decide whether he was dreaming or not. "The worst part of it is, sometimes you can't tell whether you're addicted to life or the dream."

"Sounds…terrifying." Valerie said, making a face that was somewhere between disbelief and worry. "You really don't know what else you would do?"

"Not really. I never finished college, so I never really had to pick an actual career. As far as I went, I made enough money Extracting. Never needed a career." He shrugged. The more he thought about it though, the more he figured he would have ended up working in an office, bored out of his mind like anyone else in a dead-end job. Didn't exactly appeal to him. "Why? Are you thinking I need a job with less commuting?"

"No. Not really. I was just wondering, that's all." She shrugged.

"Are you thinking of getting into the extracting business?"

"Absolutely not." She replied firmly. He blinked. That had been shot down awfully fast. Seeing his stunned reaction, she luckily opted to explain. "I've had more than my share of excitement. Between Mr. Schizo when I was younger, and then a stint I spent trying to live in Los Angeles, I've had enough thrills to last me a life time. I'll stick with my day job until I get published, and I'll stay in my own mind."

"When did you live in Los Angeles?"

"Before I moved here."

"Any particular reason for LA?" She was getting strangely dodgy about the subject, avoiding eye-contact by picking around in her salad, pretending to look for croutons. He knew that because she once told him that "no croutons" was the code phrase amongst her female friends that the subject should be dropped. She did it by force of habit when an uncomfortable conversation came up.

"I wanted to see Hollywood." She finally answered with a shrug. He wanted to ask more, but decided against it. It wasn't really any of his business he supposed. Didn't mean he wasn't curious of course, but he wasn't insensitive enough to push it and ruin a perfectly good evening.

* * *

Arthur often, perhaps usually was the better word, had days where he didn't dream. But very seldom, if ever, did he have nightmares. Least of all nightmares he couldn't explain. He wasn't even sure if that had been a nightmare, or if his mind was just becoming aware of the fact that it ceased to perceive dreams. It had felt vaguely like drowning. Drowning in a suffocating blackness, with salvation just out of his reach. He hadn't liked it one bit. But then, who did?

He was laying silently on Valerie's couch, hating the pillow under his head for it's lack of softness. She had to work tomorrow, and he hadn't wanted to wake her up, and someone shifting around endlessly in her bed was bound to have that effect sooner or later. He figured he'd save her the trouble. He tilted his head to the side, wondering vaguely what time it was, he had no idea how long he'd been on the couch. For some reason, his eyes zeroed in on a picture in a plain wooden frame, propped up on the side table, nowhere near the clock he had been looking for. He wondered why he'd never noticed it before, but then realized it was because when he visited, he was honestly usually more interested in Valerie than her apartment. He wandered over and picked it up.

The picture was of Valerie, a few years ago if he had to guess, her hair much shorter, almost boyish, her arms around a man who looked to be several years older. They were standing in front of the Hollywood sign, smiling, Valerie looked like she had been laughing. He wondered who he was. Her father or her Uncle perhaps? He tilted the picture, though he knew that wouldn't actually do anything to increase how well he could see, but eventually decided there wasn't a family resemblance. He hated himself for it, but the next thought that came to mind was "sugar daddy". He reasoned it out based on the conversation they'd had, or rather, hadn't had over dinner about her time in Los Angeles, had she been ashamed? Was it so improbable that she had been there on the grace of someone else's money? Someone who expected to be repaid in one fashion or another? He didn't want to think such things of her. But the only way he could stop for certain was to disprove the theory.

Gingerly, Arthur pried the back off of the picture frame. It went easily, though the dust caked on it nearly incited a sneeze. He set the back down with a slight clatter, eyeing Valerie's door warily, though he was more or less certain she wouldn't have been able to hear the noise a few feet away, let alone while she was asleep in the next room. Satisfied he wouldn't be interrupted, he removed the paper from the frame, and discovered a simple sentence scrawled on the back in chicken-scratch writing he knew wasn't Valerie's.

_May of '06 _

_We finally got to Hollywood! I love you, babe! _

_Always, Spencer_

Arthur stared at the written message for a long while, unable to decide how he felt about it. It was perfectly evident that while this Spencer may have meant something to Valerie then, he wasn't sure what the context was now however. She hadn't thrown away his picture. What else was she holding on to? If only he had a last name, he could figure out who exactly Spencer was. He soon found himself rifling through her other pictures, and other little keepsakes nearby. He wasn't jealous of an ex-boyfriend, just increasingly curious. For all the good it did him anyway. There was nothing else, save for the picture. He searched through the books on a shelf; all novels, no diary or journal. Nothing to help him solve the mystery. And then a DVD on the rack by the TV caught his eye. "Spencer Von Traum's directorial debut, _Suffocating". _

Arthur knew that movie. He'd read the reviews on it, seen it once. It was an sad film, a very, very sad film, and as such, hadn't been much with the critics. It had claimed to be about the supernatural haunting of a certain man. What it had been instead, was an incredibly depressing in-depth documentary of the same man, later determined to be Traum himself, losing everything. Not a bad movie by any means, just not the usual canon for Hollywood. Could that Spencer and the one in the picture be the same one? Curious, he approached her laptop, opened it, and Googled Spencer Von Traum. The picture that came up presented him with a man who looked several years older, despite the fact it was dated only three years after the one with Valerie, it was unmistakably the same person though.

Arthur sat back in the desk-chair, observing the picture, along with the article attached to it. Traum's second film had been a bust, not just with the usual critics, but among the alternative crowd as well. He'd eventually faded away into the world of "Has-beens", quickly followed by a suicide attempt which landed him in a drug-induced coma and then death. He had tried to permanently go under using a dreamsharing device, one of the first casualties caused directly by dreamsharing chemicals. Traum was one of those that decided his dreams were more real than his reality, and in the end, had wound up with nothing.

Arthur's eyes drifted to the door again, Valerie asleep on the other side of it. He wondered how far along for the ride she had been dragged. Had she been with Spencer up to his death? The timing would fit just about right with when she had come here, to Seattle. He eyed her computer. He could find out without too much trouble. He resisted the temptation for all of three seconds.

The information came easily. Even a minor celebrity like Traum was gifted coverage when his career started to fall apart. During his first arrest, it was reported that he had been with a girl, who they had at first thought was just a hooker, but was later discovered to be a drifter Traum had been having a tryst with, who had been missing from her home for several months. The girls name was Valerie Sinclaire. He could recognize the one picture they'd managed to snap of her before she had vanished. It was definitely the same girl he'd gone and fallen for. Arthur was, quite literally, at a loss for words. He didn't know what to think of this discovery. Certainly it didn't change how he felt about her, what it did do however, was make him wonder just what kind of girl she really was. He was suddenly aware of how shallow his knowledge of her truly was.

"Arthur? What are you doing up so-" Before she had even finished the sentence, she had bolted across the room, very nearly smashing his fingers as she slammed the laptop closed. "What the hell were you doing?" She demanded, staring at him through glaring eyes, her palms flat on the computer, as though she were expecting it to pop open again if she didn't hold it closed.

"I'm sorry. I saw the picture and I-"

"And you decided it would be okay to go behind my back and start getting into my personal life?" She cut him off viciously, she left the computer suddenly, and gathered the picture up instead, clutching it tightly. "That was a total asshole move, Arthur!"

"What's the deal with you and Traum?"

"That's not any of your business." She spat the words at him like so much acid. She took a few defensive steps to the bedroom door, he rose, thinking to give chase, but stopped when she did, looking at him as he froze in the center of the floor. "Why would you do that?" She asked, softer now.

"I'm…I'm sorry. I am. I was just curious." He felt weird. He'd never had to apologize like this before. He'd never wanted to mean it so sincerely before. "I just…wanted to know."

"You invaded my privacy."

"Yes. And I'm sorry."

"Guess I should have expected as much. You being a criminal and all."

"Valerie, it's not like that. It's just that…I…I…" And his brain ceased to function. _Damnit!_ He had to explain somehow. "Wouldn't you want to know about it if you saw a picture of me with some other girl?" He finally managed. Okay, not the route he had wanted to go, but it was better than standing there stammering all night.

"Well…maybe…but I would have asked you!" Her voice shot up a notch, the anger coming back full force.

"I'm asking you now. What in the hell were you doing being a prostitute for him?" He felt it coming long before she had walked back across the room, slapping him. Hard. If the neighbors hadn't heard the shouting, they had probably heard the resounding crack of her hand on his face, she packed a mean punch for a writer.

"That wasn't how it was! I wasn't a fucking hooker!"

"Then tell me what happened. Why is such a big deal?" His face still stung, but he was able to speak around the numbness in the left side of his jaw.

"Like you would understand." She snapped, turning to march back into her room. He stopped her with a hand on her arm, gripping her elbow.

"So explain it to me. _Make_ me understand. Skeletons in your closet, demons in your past, whatever you want to call them, I don't care. Tell me and I can understand. I will. I promise."

"How can you keep a promise like that?'

"Because I care about you, very much Valerie. I want to know all there is to know about you. The good and the bad. And…it may seem like a lot to ask, but I was hoping you would do the same for me. Everyone has got one person that they want to see them when they're being totally open and honest, when it's just the human underneath all the talking and the social bullshit. For me, that person is you. You see right through me, and as much as it scares the living hell out of me, I know I need it. I know I need you. And I want to be someone that you can trust, someone you can talk to. Maybe I shouldn't say that after I what I just did, but I can swear that it'll never happen again." It was a strange sensation, to speak earnestly, to speak from the heart. He could honestly say that most of his adult life had been spent trying to keep his heart as far away from conversation as he could manage. But now, all he wanted to do was wrap it up with a little bow for Valerie. "You don't have to hide anything from me. Anything at all." He let go of her arm. Gave her the option to turn and shut him out if she wanted. He couldn't force her to tell him, he had to wait for her to make a decision. He could only stand there and hope that she would realize that he was being completely sincere with her, that he had lost the ability to lie to her.

"You know what Stockholm Syndrome is?" She asked quietly, barely audible, even in the silence.

"Yes."

"It feels like love, when you have it. Spencer…he was…he was never exactly stable. Then with the drugs…he got really bad."

"He was the one who held you hostage in your bedroom, wasn't he?"

"Yeah." Her eyes darted first to his, then the picture in her hands. "He was trying to self-medicate, trying to get rid of the voices. We'd met a few years before all that happened, at the library of all places. He said he liked how everyone whispered there. I knew what he could be like, when he was normal. And some days, when he took just the right cocktail, he'd almost seem like it again. Like the day we took this." Her fingers held the picture so tightly the edges were wrinkling. "I mean, I don't even know if it's possible, to have Stockholm syndrome after only two days, it was either that, or I loved him, which I pray wasn't the case. He signed himself out of the mental hospital after a month. And next thing I knew, he was knocking on my door, telling me that we had to go to Hollywood. The world had to know about the things he saw. I don't know how he convinced me, but he did. Next thing I know, I'd taken off with an overnight bag and a crazy guy nearly twice my age. He kept saying that he was going to make me an actress, just as soon as he got big." She rolled her eyes. "Pathetic that I believed that, huh?"

"What happened when he started to get worse?"

"I got worse right along with him. He got so into his "medication" and he had this crazy idea of filming it all. He actually threatened my life one time if I turned the camera off. It was fucked up. I wanted out, but could never convince myself to walk away. Finally, when he got arrested my opportunity to came, and I headed back home for awhile, got in touch with my family again. I guess I keep this stuff, the picture and the movie, so I can remind myself of what I never want to happen again."

"Does it work?" Arthur asked.

"Sometimes. But you saw how good I am at picking my men. You met Patrick."

"I suppose I'll sound egotistical for saying this, but I'm different. You know I am."

"Yeah. I do." She smiled, taking his jest for what it was. "I suppose that's why I'm so scared that I'll wake up one day and Mr. Perfect will be gone. I mean, as it is…if anything ever happened to you Arthur…if you ever just disappeared, I would never know what happened. That scares me more than anything else about trying to be with you. That I just don't for sure if you're going to come back."

"What if I said I would quit for you?"

"That's a promise I know you can't keep Art." She said softly, her eyes showing the faintest hint of tears. "It's sweet…incredibly sweet of you to offer, but you said yourself that it's so hard to get out…and I know you really do like what you do."

"I can find something else that-"

She stopped him with her fingertips over his lips. "Don't. You'll make me ask you to actually do it. We can make it work, just as it is. I know all I need to know about you, that you'd try to quit just for me. That's all I need. Anything else is just icing on the cake, dollface."

He kissed her fingers, and she smiled at him. "We'll make it work." He promised. "One way or another, we'll stay together." He pulled her toward him in a tight hug.


	8. Clockwise, Chapter 5

**We All Move In Circles**

**Clockwise, Chapter 5**

Author's note: Well hello again, Fanfiction world. I would like to apologize for the long, long, long, long-ass delay on this chapter. I could tell you a story about how I've been troubled and busy, but I won't because that would more or less be a lie. The fact of the matter is, I've been distracted, and poor Arthur took a walk into the back of my brain for awhile. Shame on me. Anyway, one quick announcement before we begin, the good news is: I have a basic idea of how the rest of this is going to go. The bad news is: I believe it's just about done, that being the case. At most, we're looking at 4 or 5 chapters more. Anyway, that's all, and though this is moving, it's moving rather slowly, so my updates may be few and far between while I work out the kinks. Thank you and enjoy.

P.S.-Should I be putting a disclaimer up? I feel like everyone should know the drill, but I don't want to get sued all the same...

* * *

The dining car was surprisingly empty. She had figured more people would be stumbling in for coffee given the early hour. Then again, the train didn't have very many people on it. While Valerie stood and waited for the coffee pot behind the counter to heat up, and the attendant read an old-looking copy of "Jane Eyre", the door to her left opened, admitting none other then the read-headed mother from the station. Valerie tried not groan.

The woman glanced up, saw her, offered a quick smile, and looked away again, before approaching the counter and standing next to Valerie.

"Can I get a coffee please?"

"Five minutes." The attendant answered, not looking up from her book.

"Uhm, miss…" She added on, glancing at Valerie now. "I just wanted to apologize, about earlier. I'm taking the kids to see my ex-husband you see, and it puts me in a foul mood."

"Oh. Well…yeah, I guess it was kind of inappropriate for us to be making out in the middle of a train station anyway." Valerie shrugged awkwardly, having thoroughly not expected this.

The woman smiled, as though they were now the best of friends. "I'm Blanche." She offered a slightly pudgy hand out to her.

"Valerie." She replied, shaking her hand gingerly. Blanche's grip was firm, and warm. Like every mother's hand.

"Pretty name. How long have you and the young man been together, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Uhm…three years now I guess? I don't see him much, so it seems a lot shorter."

"Long-distance relationships are hard." Blanche nodded sympathetically.

"Well, you know what they say, 'absence makes the heart grow fonder', or something like that." Valerie wasn't sure why she was telling a woman she didn't even know personal feelings all of a sudden. She supposed it was just nice to have someone to talk to once in awhile. She didn't really tell her girlfriends about Art, or even her sisters. Not because she was trying to keep him a secret, but just because it worked better that way. Considering how little she saw of him, she'd rather they think she was single than in an imaginary relationship, because she knew that's what they would all assume when she couldn't actually introduce them to him. "And, you know, it's not really distance most of the time. It's his job."

"He's married to his job before you then?"

"No. Not exactly. It's just…it's difficult. It's takes a lot of his time. And sometimes it just…I don't understand what he's doing, and I worry that it may be dangerous."

"You don't approve of what he does." Blanche filled in simply.

"Not all of it. I try though. I really do. I just worry that one day, his job will end up taking him away from me forever."

"Well then, that's all he can expect from you, isn't it? He ought to realize that there aren't a lot of girls who would stick around when they didn't like what he was doing, let alone when they didn't get to see him very often on top of it."

"He does. It's not him. It's…just…sometimes I think the connection between us is a little fuzzy. I don't think he knows as much about my life as he thinks he does, and I know I don't know as much about his as I'd like to. So there's a lot of…static."

"Hmm. But, you two are still together right?"

"As together as we can be." Valerie said, tracing a shape in the counter top. There were little speckles in the fake granite that were arranged in an almost perfect trapezoid. "Even so, I can't imagine myself being with anyone else anymore. And if I could, I don't think I'd want to."

"Sounds like he's a very lucky man." Blanche observed. "To have a girl like you all to himself, who loves him so much."

"Yeah. I do. You know, I had a dream about us. About getting married to him. It didn't last long, but I was really happy."

"The dream didn't last long or the marriage?"

"The dream. It got pretty…crazy pretty quickly." Valerie tried to laugh, but probably only managed a pained smile as she thought back to what had happened in the dream. The crazy woman, Art dying, Sophie dying, feeling the sensation of falling to your death and not knowing if you would wake up before you did. It didn't help that every time she started to drift off again, she got paranoid that woman would invade her dreams, even though she was fairly certain she couldn't actually be there without extraction equipment. No matter how sure she was that it had all been in her head, the images were still on the back of her eyelids when she tried to sleep. She gave her head a little shake and turned to Blanche. "So, your ex-husband, where does he live?"

"Believe it or not, the crazy man left me and all our kids to become a drug dealer in Mexico. He's doing twenty-five-to-life for murdering a cop."

"Oh my...oh my god. Uhm…sorry about that I guess." She felt the color drain from her face.

Blanche laughed heartily. "No, no, I'm just kidding you. Really. He's just your average no-account bum living on the beach with a skinny-little gold-digger half his age. That sort of thing."

"But, at least he still sees the kids, right?"

"Only because the courts forced him too." Blanche scoffed. "I swear, he spent fifteen years convincing me to just have one more baby, one more little angel, he'd always say, and now he doesn't even want to see them because they make him feel old."

"Did you ever think about leaving him before?" Valerie barely noticed that the coffee was done, a cup sitting before both she and Blanche.

"Only…once." The older woman said, looking thoughtful. "Just once in the entire twenty years we were married. We'd had this silly little fight. I can barely remember what it was about now. He had to work two jobs to keep us all afloat, so I didn't see him much, and one day we got into it, and we were screaming at each other, I could hear the kids crying upstairs, but I just couldn't stop yelling. I finally just got up and left, I threw some things into a bag, and headed for the door, but he was one step ahead of me. He had left a letter on the table, saying he had been planning to leave for weeks. He said he was sorry, but he couldn't handle having a family anymore, he needed some 'time to think'. And six months later he introduced our children to Mercedes. Their new mom, who doesn't even speak English."

"Wow. I'm sorry Blanche, but he sounds like a total ass."

"Well, of course I know that now. But he wasn't in the beginning. In the beginning he was the perfect man." Blanche sighed with a faraway look in her eyes.

"Did you ever try to date again?"

"Heavens no. Look at me Valerie, I'm forty-three with five children. There aren't any second chances in love for me. Besides, no one could ever top those first years we were together."

Valerie somehow sensed that it was more than people not being able to live up to her husband. She knew that Blanche didn't want anyone to surpass the one love she had. She was stuck in the rut of her golden years, circling around them, she didn't know how to love anyone else and refused to learn. Valerie knew that would probably be how she would end up if Arthur just up and disappeared one day, she would wait patiently, clinging to the hope that he would come back one day.

"Goodness, listen to us. This is all so very depressing. Let's talk about something else." Blanche said, suddenly cheerful. She plucked up one of the coffee cups on the counter. "What puts the two of you on this train?"

"Call it a spontaneous vacation."

"Ah." Blanche's eyes lit up. "Off to rekindle the passion? A journey of self discovery? They say spontaneity is good for those kinds of things."

"No, not quite." Valerie couldn't help but chuckle a little at Blanche's enthusiasm, and the fact that she had just suggested the plots of half the romantic-comedy movies out there. "It's more like we're trying to get away for awhile."

"It's wonderful that you two will do that together. So many people your age are too busy or too stressed or have some other excuse for why they don't have time for romance. It's nice to escape big city life and such for awhile."

"Yeah…Blanche, can I ask you for some advice?"

"I'm a mother, Valerie, that's all I'm good for."

"Me and Art, the guy I'm with, we had a bit of a disagreement. And, we've only argued once before this. What do you think is a good way to apologize?"

"My lord, you two must be meant for each other if you've gone three years and only had two spats." She had a wide-eyed look of surprise on her face. Valerie didn't feel like mentioning how little they were around each other. That probably helped with the whole spat thing. Too much of a good thing and what not. "Well, I don't know what it was about, but I'd say the best way to go would be to just tell him the truth. All of it. Why you feel differently about whatever it was. You seem to have a good understanding of each other, it shouldn't be difficult."

"Huh. Okay. Thanks Blanche, I'll try that. Nice talking to you by the way." Valerie picked up her own coffee cup and headed back in the direction of her lovely little man. Just as he popped through the door to the dining car. There was a collision of bodies, and a curse as she spilled hot coffee down the front of his nice, likely expensive, shirt.

"Oh shit! Arthur! I'm so sorry!" She wheeled around to grab a handful of napkins, trying to soak as much of the coffee off of him as she could before it stained and burned.

"Good starting line." Said Blanche, as she left the car through the other door.

"Thanks Blanche." Valerie grumbled, shooting a half-hearted glare after the older woman. Then she turned her eyes back to Art and his poor burned skin. "Are you okay? I didn't think…God that was stupid."

"Wasn't your fault." He said, through a tight-lipped grimace.

"Come on, cold water will fix you right up." She tossed the napkins in a trashcan, along with the now mostly empty cup, took his hand, and pulled him to the nearest bathroom.

* * *

"Okay, so…this probably isn't as bad as it looks." Valerie tried to sound cheerful, holding a paper towel soaked in cold water against Art's chest, where a lovely red welt went all the way down his stomach, he had argued that he was capable of doing it himself, but she had just wanted to play nurse. She had his shirt in the sink, with the faucet running more cold water, hoping to get the coffee out before it settled and ruined it. There was barely enough space in the bathroom for them to both stand in it, but they managed, with her being pressed up against one wall, and he against the other. "I mean it's not like third degree or anything."

"Oh good. So I won't be scarred for life."

"It would be kind of hard to do that with coffee, don't you think?" She asked, lips quirking up a little bit.

"I don't know. Sure felt like it was taking my skin off."

"Scars are sexy."

"Would it still be sexy if you knew you'd given it to me with an overheated cup of coffee?"

"That…depends on how far down it goes." She said, smile stretching into a saucy little grin. "I could always pretend like you got in protecting me in a bar fight."

"I'm glad our relationship is so substantial to you."

"Come on now, I mean it as a compliment. And I'd still do you, horrible battle scars and all." She said, changing out the paper towel for a fresh one. "I am a little worried about these though." She raised a hand to his face, her thumb tracing the shadow under his right eye, which had been growing progressively worse since he had come back to her place. "You look like you haven't slept in a week, Art."

"Mm. Haven't had time." He shrugged, his eyes drifting closed, as though thinking that it would make him seem less tired. Or she was lulling him to sleep just by giving him something to lean his head on. She wasn't sure.

"You should sleep on the way. We've still got a few more hours until we get to San Diego. You really need the rest. You probably have jet lag on top of not sleeping last night." She peeled the paper towel off his chest, inspected it, and decided that it looked like he would survive. "Come on, let's take you to bed."

"That would be nice…if there was a bed around with enough space to do everything I want to do to you." His head dropped forward onto her shoulder, so that he was mumbling against her neck, knowing that she loved it when he did that.

"Art…we both know you'd fall asleep before you even got my pants off."

"Doesn't mean I wouldn't try."

"You're being silly. You need to sleep, and I'm not going to let you fuck me in a public bathroom. Who knows what kind of diseases we're going to get just standing in here this long." She reached for the door handle, but his fingers caught hers first.

"Valerie…"

"Hm?"

"Do you love me?"

"Well, that's a silly question."

"And I want an answer."

"You know how I feel about you Art-"

"It's nice to be reassured once in awhile." He said, quoting the conversation they'd had in the station. He removed his head from her shoulder, watching her eyes. She stared back, chewing her lower lip a little. Words were her craft, and yet… "I know how you feel. At least, I think I do. I just want to hear you say it."

"Why is saying "I love you" suddenly so important?" She asked. Not because she couldn't say it. Not because she didn't want to. Just because it seemed odd to utter the words in a bathroom, on a train, when 20 minutes ago they hadn't been able to say anything to each other.

"Because the only time I've ever heard you say it was in my dreams. And there…there you're just a projection. You say what I want to hear. I want to hear what you want to say. How you want to say it."

Feeling suddenly overwhelmed for some inexplicable reason, Valerie wrapped her arms around Arthur's neck, pressing against him, breathing him in. "Let's go get some sleep. I'll tell you everything, when you're wide awake to hear it."

Art nodded, struggling with the faucet for a moment, having to reach around her before he finally got it off, snagging up his shirt as she led him back through the cars, her arms coiled around his waist, no doubt they got strange looks from the other few patrons of the train, but she didn't care, and hoped he didn't either.

They cuddled up in their seats, the armrest in the middle up. She leaned her back against the window, and he leaned against her, his ear resting a few inches from her heart, her arms loose around his shoulders, his coat draped over them as best it would go in lieu of a blanket.

Valerie pushed his hair back absently, and glanced out the window, seeing the lights of a city pass by. It looked bright and beautiful, almost welcoming. On the outskirts, a church sat, the sign just big enough for her to read that a man named Tom was marrying a girl named Joyce tomorrow. She thought of the dream. Played the good points through her head.

She could marry him. One day.

"I love you, Art." Her finger traced the curve of his eyebrow as she spoke. "I love you more than anything."

"I knew it." The words were mumbled into her shirt.

"You jackass." She couldn't help but laugh, even though she was actually a bit angry for his now-obvious ploy of eavesdropping. "You arrogant little jerk. You knew I would do that didn't you? That was just practice."

"I can't wait to hear the finished product."

* * *

The red-headed kids were like an alarm clock. A really, really goddamn annoying alarm clock. The same boy who had run through screaming the first time went up and down the car, five times, in an hour. Only now he was pursued by two of his younger sisters, who were yelling shrilly at him to wait for them, or to come back to their mother, or some other thing that they repeated twenty times in the twenty feet of the car they ran through. If Phillipa and James ever turned out like this, Arthur swore he would kill Dom.

He vaguely heard the conductor announcing over the loudspeakers that they would be delayed for the next twenty minutes, do to a slight mishap in the engine. He had no doubt it was the fault of those obnoxious children. He sighed against Valerie's chest, wishing for another twenty minutes of peaceful sleep, but knowing he wouldn't get it. The kids would probably come barreling through again in about three, if they kept to their schedule of course. So he decided he might as well get up.

Arthur opened his eyes and was met with a big pair of blue orbs. He blinked, wondering if they would go away. Instead, the world slid into better focus, and he could see the little girl they were attached too, her bright red curls level with his face as she squatted down between the seat he and Valerie were in, and the ones across from them. She blinked back, probably no more than three or four if he had to guess.

"Um…Hi. Where's your mother?" He asked, hoping she was looking for this kid.

"Are you sexing her?" The girl asked, raising a finger and pointing at Valerie, who was somehow, miraculously, sleeping through all the racket.

"What?"

"Brendan, that's my brother, he's says that you're doing sex. Mama said not to bother you if you were, so I waited for you to wake up." She seemed very proud of herself for the fact. Arthur was slightly creeped out, wondering how long she had been hunkered down there.

"Well, that's really not any of your business-"

"Are you making a baby? Can I hold it when you do?" Her eyes lit up.

"Listen, little girl-"

"My name is Amanda. And I'm not little, I'm four. Clair is the little one. She's only two, so I have to take care of her sometimes."

"Okay. Amanda. Listen, I'm not- we're just sleeping here, together, alright?"

"You two were kissing in the station. And you're touching down there. That's sex." She insisted, pointing at their lower halves, which were covered by his coat, but apparently she was just assuming as much.

"It's not sex when you have clothes on. And we're both dressed."

"But Brendan says-"

"Do you really believe everything your brother says?" Arthur asked, at this point just trying to distract her.

"No…but he's older, he says that makes him smarter."

"Well, your Mom is older than both of you. So maybe you should go ask her about the birds and the bees." Amanda's eyes got even bigger.

"You're right. I gotta go ask Mama what sex really means. I'll be right back." She popped out into the aisle and took off. Arthur hoped they would be off the train before her mother was done trying to explain sex to a four-year old.

"What's all the noise about?" Came Valerie's voice, drawling in her tired attempt at talking.

"Oh, so you join the world of the living finally. You just missed one of the most awkward moments of my life."

"Oh yeah?" She yawned as a response. "What happened?"

"A four-year old little girl just asked me whether we were making a baby."

"Well, what were you doing to me in my sleep that would make her think that, huh?" Valerie asked, laughing quietly.

"Nothing. Just sleeping on you." He gave her a light jab in the ribs, smirking when she gave a squealed version of a giggle. He sat himself up, stretching and trying to get an unpleasant kink in his back to pop. She imitated him, stretching in an almost identical fashion.

"So…where do we go after San Diego?"

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not dumb. I know this is just a temporary fix Art. Going to San Diego is only going to buy us time, isn't it? They'll find us eventually."

"It's…not an impossibility. How long we have really depends on how good their sources are. We could have a few days, or a few years before they figure out where we are."

"As long as that crazy lady is in charge, my money is on sooner rather than later. She'll never stop looking for us. Or at least you. I'm telling you Art, she has to be your bitter high school sweetheart or something. She's way too in to you to just want the key to inception. She really creeped me out."

"Hmm. Maybe you're just indignant about someone trying to steal me?" He suggested, more to distract her than anything. It wasn't as if he hadn't run over that possibility on his own. But he'd gone as far back as his memory would allow and hadn't thought of anyone, specifically any woman, he had known that would be disgruntled enough to pull this kind of move. So, unless she had undergone a sex change at some point, this woman was no one he knew. Even then, he didn't know anyone that knew the ins-and-outs of extraction who was this pissed at him. He knew a few angry CEO's who could hire such people, but then he doubted she would be as obsessed as Valerie made her sound if that were the case. He hated being stuck in a rut this way.

"I wouldn't be angry unless I thought she was going to succeed in stealing you. Which better not be the case." She looked at him imploringly.

"Of course not."

"Okay then. I'm not angry. She's just a freaking creep." Valerie huffed, sitting back heavily, and crossing her arms. "So…what can we do?"

"We'll have to try and stay hidden." He shrugged, "We'll need a place to stay, but not a hotel. Hotel's can't be trusted to keep your information safe."

"So what? You want to buy a condo?" She asked sarcastically.

"Yes. I have a couple of alternative identities which should be hard for them to trace back to me. You aren't going to be able to use any of your credit cards or anything though, they're too easy to trace, and your phone will have to go as well."

"Wait, wait, wait. We're really going to buy a house together?"

"Well, sort of. It will only be temporary, and it won't really be in either of our names. But yeah, I suppose we'll be living together for awhile." He shrugged, while she stared at him with rather large eyes. "What? Is that a problem?"

"No. It's just…kind of cool." She smiled widely. "I've always wondered what really living with you would be like. This is so exciting!"

"We're still going to be chased by Extractors." He reminded her.

"I know. But I'm still excited about moving in together. With our whole…two overnight bags worth of stuff." She laughed, eyeing their minor collection of belongings in the opposite seat. "What's our budget? Can we live somewhere close to the beach?"

He couldn't help but smile as well. He didn't know why he had thought that Valerie would be taking this hard. She was truly unshakable. Ask her to pick up and leave her life behind, and she would agree and be fine with it; all she wanted to know was whether they could live by the beach. He suddenly understood why he had fallen so hard and so fast for her. "Wherever you want to go Valerie. We'll live wherever you want."

* * *

"This place is nice." Valerie remarked, pointing an apartment out to him in her newspaper. They were each reading different ones, looking for an easy to get a-hold-of apartment. "I mean, pretty basic anyways, and it says the neighbors are nice."

"It's in the middle of downtown. Those "nice" neighbors probably put that ad in there after they murdered the original owners."

"But it's cheap."

"I don't want to live in a cheap one."

"But I'll feel bad if we live somewhere expensive and I can't even help with rent." She was pouting. Sometimes Valerie was just too keen to prove her independence. Especially considering she should have outgrown that ten or so years ago.

"Don't worry about that right now. It only has to be for the first week or so, then you can find yourself a job if you really want to help out." He shrugged, to which Valerie only pouted in a more child-like fashion. He smiled down at his paper, trying to hide it from her. She just looked so cute like that…and if she caught him smiling she would keep doing it until she convinced him to pick a cheap one. "Here, what about this one? It's one of those model places, that has all the furniture in it already. That way we can move straight in."

"Ooh. But won't that be weird? It'll be like living in someone else's house." She said, reaching out for his leaf of newspaper.

"Maybe at first. But we can fix it up." Arthur answered, giving her a few minutes to peruse the add. "What do you think?"

"I dunno, it's kinda…strange sounding."

"It's only a mile from the beach."

"Well, that's all I need to hear." She grinned.

* * *

The place was one of those overly modern ones. The designers had tried to make everything look very sleek and fancy, and had really only succeeded in making everything look too round. Valerie and Arthur fixed this quickly. They spent nearly three hours shoving furniture around, adjusting pillows, and for awhile Valerie jumped on the couch, trying to get it "nice and lumpy", taking down bad paintings and moving some they deemed tolerable, generally making the condo feel a little more homey, like they actually intended to live in it instead of just hide in it for a few weeks.

"I don't like the bedroom." She concluded at last, as they stood in the doorway, observing the bed across the room, king-sized, very plush looking, with a curved black headboard, the sheets and comforter in varying shades of dark red and burgundy.

"It is a little…" He cast around for a word.

"Clinical." She finished for him.

"I was going to go with 'austere' but I suppose…why do you think it looks clinical?"

"It's so like…neat…and empty. It's like a hospital room, but with better colors."

"We just have break it in a little that's all." He gave her a suggestive nudge with his elbow. Besides being the best way to christen a new bed, there was no way either of them could deny they had been on one hell of a dry-spell the last few weeks. Lovemaking was most certainly in order.

"Hmm…I need to get more pillows."

"Pillows are not what I had in mind." Arthur informed, before grabbing her around the waist, swinging her onto the bed and pouncing on her, Valerie shrieking with giggles all the while.

"Ah. I see where you're going with this now." She concluded with content looking smile. "And it's about time. Do you know how crazy I go not being able to touch you for weeks at a time?"

"You have me all to yourself now. You can do whatever you want, my dear."

She kissed him deeply, a fire burning somewhere that he could sense, feel, though he didn't know why or where it was coming from. Warm and delicate fingers traced his cheeks, down his jaw, trailing over the pulse in his throat that was speeding up, like it did whenever he thought of Valerie and what she could do to him with just a touch. Teeth dragged along his lip and closed lightly around his neck, her fingers flying on the buttons of his shirt. He could definitely say she had gotten a thousand times faster at that then when they had first started their tentative little trysts in her bed. Never his bed. The thought bit at him momentarily. She had never been in his bed, in the home he didn't have. Was it cruel to suddenly want that, when he had everything he wanted right here?

"Hey, pay attention to me Art, or I'll stop." She reprimanded with a gentle bite to his shoulder.

"I don't think you will." He chided back, his hand sliding along her thigh when she hooked it around his hips.

"Probably not. But I thought I should threaten you anyway."

"I'm always paying attention to you Valerie. You're the center of my universe." An unexpected thing happened. Tears formed in her eyes. He kissed them away. "The center of my life, my love, my everything. I will always be paying attention to you. I swear it."

Valerie smiled, the misty look returning despite his efforts, snuggling her face against his shoulder. "Art…I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

"You'd be granting my wish if you would." He said, leaning her face up, his hand under her chin, kissing her warmly. "That's all I would ever ask of you."

"Then you'll have it."

* * *

Something about her had always been a perfect fit. He could never quite place it. Their bodies had always fit together like a two piece puzzle. Their hands matched just perfectly when they clasped their fingers, their lips sealed as if no air could go between them, her breasts had always sat in his palms as a perfect handful. Their nights together had always seemed to him less like physical fulfillment and more like learning something he would know for the rest of his life. Valerie had found her way into his heart in a matter of hours. She had filled an empty space he hadn't known was there. She wrapped him in affection and love and warmth no matter what he had done, no matter how long it had been. He cherished the words she spoke to him, he treasured memories they had made together, no matter how simple, how insignificant they seemed. He could never let her go. Life alone again would be shallow, cold, and undoubtedly short. He wouldn't be able to breathe without her. She was his perfect fit. His place in the world was right here, loving her, holding her, plummeting them both over the edge as many times as they dared. He would never let her go.


	9. Clockwise, Chapter 6

**We All Move in Circles**

**Clockwise Chapter 6**

The door burst open, followed by a foul-mouthed curse that would have made anyone who wasn't a sailor flinch.

"I'm assuming that your colorful language means you didn't have any luck today either with the job hunting?" Arthur asked, quickly X-ing out of his most recent dive into the internet. He didn't want her to know he still hadn't found out who their stalker was. It was just much more comfortable for him if she didn't worry.

"No, actually, I got a job today. I just jammed my finger really bad. I'm still not used to this place. Thought the table was a little farther back then it was…"

"Come here, let me see." He waved his arm at her over the back of the couch. She obeyed, crossing the room in shuffling steps, and held her index finger out to him like a child.

"You going to kiss it and make it better?"

"I don't think I need to. You didn't even break your nail." He replied, smiling when she pouted at him.

"Do it anyway?"

"Fine." He pretended to sound annoyed but gave the tip of her finger a delicate kiss. "Better?"

"Much." She nodded, flopping down on the couch next to him.

"So, your new job. Where are you going to be working?"

"Ah. Right. Well, I gave up finding something like my old position, considering I can't really call anyone for references or anything, so I settled for something a little more blue-collar. Ta-da! I'm going to be a bartender!" She reached into her laptop bag/purse and with a flourish withdrew a pink baby-doll T-shirt, big black letters going across the front, reading: Dirty Harry's. "Sweet, huh? I mean, we're not in San Francisco which kind of ruins it, but it's a pretty awesome idea anyway."

"What kind of name is 'Dirty Harry's'? Especially if you want people to eat there?"

Valerie dropped her hands and proceeded to stare at him with her mouth open, looking offended. "You better be kidding."

"What?"

"Dirty Harry! Harry Callahan! You know," She made a squinty-eyed face at him, and, with a sad attempt at making a her voice deeper and growly, continued: "Feeling lucky, punk?"

"Is it a movie?"

"Yes! Jesus Christ Arthur, you've never seen Dirty Harry? It's only the best non-cowboy Clint Eastwood movie ever written! I quote it all the time!" She was practically shouting at him, leaving him with little else to do but nod as she ranted on about the plot, as though hoping to trigger some sort of repressed memory. Finally, when she realized nothing she was saying was really ringing a bell with him, she threw her hand up in the air, sending the shirt flying. "Ugh, where's my computer? You're going to watch it, right now."

She fumbled around on the touchpad, re-opening the internet, and proceeded to hunt down the Instant-Watch copy on Netflix.

"I've been wondering." He stated randomly.

"Sounds dangerous." She said with a coy smirk, then, more seriously: "About what?"

"About whether your dose of reality has been long enough yet." Valerie sat rather heavily on the floor, an plopped her hand down on his knee.

"Art, listen, it's not that I don't want to try this whole dream-sharing thing again, it's just…I'm still learning the concept, I don't think it's a good idea to dump me into a dream world when I still don't really understand it. I mean, you've always told me how easy it is to get lost, and get confused, and all that other stuff, and I want to know what I'm doing before I try it. Even if it's with you, and just you."

"Unfortunately, you can only learn so much without actually experiencing it." He chided gently. "I just don't want to leave it hanging with that being your only real encounter with the dreams. I don't want you to think I'm a bad guy."

"I don't think you're a bad guy." She shook his knee a bit. "Just that you somehow managed to make enemies with some pretty bad people."

"It's never that simple."

"Maybe not. But it is so bad to hope for the best? Or in this case, I guess, I'm just hoping that you didn't do something bad enough to merit the obsession they seem to have with you." She leaned her chin on his leg, next to her hand. "Maybe we should skip to the movie. You want to go to the beach?"

"That is why we live here." He nodded, mussing up her hair gingerly, his hand on top of her head. "And for what it's worth, I don't mind you wanting to wait. That's fine with me. Just know that I'd watch out for you. I wouldn't let anything happen to you in my own mind."

"I know." Valerie nodded his hand off her head, standing, she brushed off the knees of her jeans unnecessarily, and walked over to the bedroom, shutting the computer on her way. "By the by, you don't get to wear a tie to the beach. You better at least have a t-shirt laying around in here somewhere."

"Will you settle for just no tie?"

* * *

While her job at Dirty Harry's was rather fun, it was also ridiculously stressful on Friday's after five o'clock. Valerie was bussing the last of the tables, only a few late-goers sitting at the bar now. Cooper, the head-bartender, was washing dishes at the sink, a cigar poking out of the corner of his mouth. He had been a biker in his more youthful days, and some of the habits he'd gotten used to in the rebel days, such as smoking indoors, had proved too hard for him to break.

"Last batch." Valerie informed, dumping an armful of empty bottles into the recycling bin behind the bar, and another armful of empty glasses into the second basin of the sink. "You want me to wash them up or-"

"Nah, y'had a long day Hon. You go on home and get some rest. Jodie'll take care of 'em tomorrow."

"Thanks. You're a sweetheart Cooper." She tried to keep the relief out of her voice. She was lucky to even have this job, as she wasn't allowed to give anything to anyone that could connect her to people in Seattle, this included the references on her resume. It was weird, being totally disconnected from what had once been her life. Well, from everything that had once been her life besides Arthur. While she was happy to be with him all the time now, she also missed Lauren, Cassandra, and Stella, she missed being able to call her sisters, and she also missed her comfy desk chair at the publishing company. But, it was also refreshing to get to start over again. It was proving to be really fun to play a happy husband-wife scenario with Art in their cute little apartment that they had been working on decorating the last couple weeks.

Relief from the hectic night came the instant Valerie got to untie her apron from around her neck, and changed out her "work shoes" a pair of plain black converse, for the sandals she had stuck in her bag. She piled her hair into a ponytail, and made a break for the front door, the dim, two AM morning looked cool and refreshing.

"See you Sunday, Cooper." She stopped and added at the last minute. He gave her a grunt in response, to which Valerie smiled. For some reason, he had always reminded her of the comic book character Hellboy. While he seemed big and mean and surly, Cooper was really nothing but a big teddy bear under all the tattoos and the leather, at least, if you were a girl he was. He even had a soft spot for cats. Didn't mean he wouldn't deck some asshole who was picking on his waitresses though. He still had a pretty good mean-streak when it struck his fancy.

Just as she turned back to the door, it opened from the other side, and she nearly ran into the young man on the other side, shaggy-haired and pretty-faced, he looked like he could still be in college, big baby-blues making him look peculiarly innocent.

"Oops, sorry miss." He smiled, and, very politely, took a step out of her way, holding the door for her to walk past him.

"Oh. Thanks." She smiled back, for some reason she had just sort of assumed the fact that there were pretty well no other guys out there, after Art, who would hold the door open for girls anymore. It was a bit more surprising than it should have been.

"Mind if I invite you back in for a drink?" His request came out of the blue, the flawless smile still in place.

"Uhm…well, it's nice of you to offer, really. But it's a little late, I should really be getting home, and last call is in half an hour. Besides, I don't drink with strangers."

"Ah. I see. Smart girl." He gave her an approving nod. "Well, I'm Jake." He stuck a hand out for her, and for a moment she hesitated. Something felt weird. It passed after a moment, so she shook it off, though was now a little more cautious.

"Valerie."

"Valerie." He repeated, the same smile never leaving his face. Was he a Ken-doll? Who smiled that much? His cheeks had to be hurting. Not so say he didn't have cute little dimples though. He gripped her hand lightly, almost delicately, and released her quickly. "Well, I don't want to keep you from going home. May I at least ask for a second chance at asking you out? Tomorrow maybe? We can get some coffee instead."

"Sorry. I've got plans with my boyfriend tomorrow." She shook her head, trying to smile politely at him anyway.

"What if I said I just wanted to be friends? Besides, it's just a quick cup of coffee."

"Well, I'd still have to say no. I made a promise."

"Alright. Well then, you can't blame a guy for trying. Be careful on your way home, Miss Valerie. You never know what comes out at night."

_Well, that was only a little ominous._ Valerie thought, as Jake vanished into the bar, and she made a beeline for home. She didn't know why, but she had shivers going up her spine, even though the night was still typically Californian, smoggy and warm. _Nice guy though. Polite. Lot better than most guys I meet. _Arthur of course was not included in this equation, because he was simply the best guy she had ever met.

The air-conditioner greeted her first, cool air enveloping her in a refreshing-smog free environment. She took a deep breath, welcoming the relief from the muggy air.

"Hey. You're back late." Art gave her a brief nod from the couch, where it appeared he was on the computer. Again. He was going to need glasses if he kept spending so much time staring at the screen.

"And you're up late." She stated, leaning over the back of the couch to twine her arms around his neck lightly, her chin sitting on the top of his head. "Fridays are always busy. Cooper asked me to stay late and help out. Should I have called? You didn't wait up for me, did you?" She asked suddenly, she wouldn't put it past him to sit up and worry about her this late at night. He always seemed to be paranoid about something, whether it be the Extractors that they hadn't seen a sign of in nearly a month, or just the general threats he seemed to think were always out to get one of them.

"Partially. Just couldn't seem to sleep regardless."

"Hmm. Dreams?" She asked, loosing her grip and moving to sit next to him on the couch, eyeing the screen of the laptop. Nothing that interested her. More accurately, it was something that she didn't understand. Some sort of mysterious document that was a little too scientific looking for her. Knowing Art, he was looking into Dream-sharing documentation again. Not really her cup of tea, especially these days.

"No. I stopped dreaming again awhile ago." He shrugged, looking deceptively relaxed, but his eyebrows were tilted down just enough to tell her that he was faking the relaxation, his mind was likely still running a mile a minute. "How'd your day go?" He asked, effecting an abrupt subject change.

"About the same as all Fridays go." She said smiling and leaning back against the couch, then slid to the right a little, cuddling up to his side. "Lot of drunk people, lot of impatient people, and some asshole who broke a bottle of Cooper's best whiskey. We got to see him throw a guy into a garbage can. That was exciting."

"Heh. Sounds like a fun night." He laughed, cuddling her back, leaning into her.

"Yeah, like I said, went like most other Fridays." She agreed with a nod. "Oh, and I guess I did meet a guy."

"Met a guy? Care to elaborate on that?"

"Oh, is that a jealous undertone I'm detecting?" Valerie giggled mildly, looking up at him with an inquisitive smile. He glanced down at her, then at the laptop screen.

"No, of course not. I trust you." They were both silent for a few moments. Then Arthur broke into a smirk. "Okay, I lied, I'm jealous. Insanely jealous. So much so, that I don't think I'll let you out of my sight for the next ten or twelve years." He reached around her, grabbing her up in a tight hug. "Nobody's ever going to steal you."

"Hey now, don't start getting too possessive there dollface." She wriggled around in his grip, though he wasn't letting go. She didn't mind all that much. "You know I'd never let anyone else have me. You're the only one for me, forever and ever and all that other good mushy stuff."

"Very poetic." He muttered, smiling all the same, pressing a kiss to her ear.

"You make me feel like Shakespeare." She nodded sarcastically, enjoying the attention. It was a bit of a childish notion of hers, liking to be the center of his attention this way. She liked days where it felt like they had never been apart, as if they were together like this everyday.

"Have you thought about where you wanted to go yet?" He asked, somewhat randomly. Or perhaps, not so much, she guessed that he was planning it all very thoroughly, that he wanted to build something truly impressive for her. A few days ago, she had finally agreed she was ready to try Dreamsharing again. She wasn't really sure why she had so suddenly felt like she wanted to, she had simply woken up one day after a particularly pointless, empty dream, feeling like it had been some kind of sign. Some part of her had always seen the act of Dreamsharing as something very intimate, despite Arthur's occupation making it seem more akin to breaking into a close friends house. She saw it as a sort of bridge built between two peoples minds. In truth, that had scared her. What could Art find if he went deep enough into her mind? There were still some ugly truths about her, doubts, fears, things no one knew about her. By letting him share her mind, she would be giving him access to all that. But then, she had reasoned, he had even more secrets from her. He never said it, never expressed it to her, but she knew that there were many things he still hadn't told her. Things that she may not want to know anymore than she wanted him to know certain things about her. But this was what loving someone really meant. Feeling the same about them, even knowing there were secrets, deep and dark as they may be, loving someone meant accepting everything about a person. Art was opening up to her the same way he was asking her too. He wasn't going to hide anything from her, this was a silent agreement they had made, and she would hide nothing for him.

"Not really. I mean, I don't know what the limitations would be. I thought maybe you could surprise me."

"It could literally be anything you wanted. Well, I guess, nothing too specific, but you could pick any sort of place. I don't want to pick something that you won't like."

"I could like anything if you were there with me."

"You're making it really hard to decide. Give me something helpful."

"Oh, I dunno." She laughed, twisting around in his arms, wrapping hers around his neck. "Just make it somewhere pretty. You know what I like."

"Fine. I'll try to surprise you."

"It'll be great, trust me." She cuddled her cheek against his, like a cat. "No matter what we decide, nothing could possibly ruin this for us, except maybe, like…Freddy Krueger. But the chances of that are pretty slim, he died in the last movie…I think."

"Just so long as you're sure you want to do it. I don't want you to think you have to." He had either completely missed her attempt at a joke, or was in too serious a mood to respond to it. She'd bet the latter. It was usually the latter.

"I already took the day off. And I would very much like to share a dream with you Art, I think getting into each other's minds is about as personal as you can get, and I'd rather it be you than anyone else who gets to share all my secrets. I want to do this. I already share my heart with you, it seems appropriate that I share my mind too."

"That, actually, legitimately sounded a little poetic." He smiled at her.

"I aim to please you, Arthur dear."

"Trust me, you don't have to try very hard."

* * *

The day had arrived a bit quickly, or so Valerie thought. It seemed like the night had gone by in a flash. Then again, they hadn't gone to bed until around four in the morning, needless to say why. Arthur had a few last minute preparations to make with the dreaming equipment, specifically, the chemicals they were going to use. He said he was trying to find something that wasn't too strong, as he didn't want her to get woozy. Made sense to her, and she was glad he thought of things like this, as she hadn't a clue what even went in to the chemicals. Either way, the spare hour or so gave her time to make a few errand runs she had meant to do yesterday, if she hadn't been called to work late. Namely, grocery shopping, something both she and Arthur had been putting off.

"Mmm…I hate when they move everything overnight like this." Valerie groaned aloud, having turned down the aisle that usually had the coffee in it, only to find all the bread had moved into it's place. "Argh….Damnit. That is so annoying." She wheeled around, basket in hand, and sought out the nearest employee of the store, spying him by his green apron. "Excuse me, but could you tell me where the coffee went to-"

"It should be- Hey! Valerie!"

For a moment she was taken by surprise, and her brain didn't recognize who was talking to her. Then the previous night came back in a flash. "Oh. Jake."

"Uhm…Glad to see you too?" His smile drooped a little, and she realized her tone had been less than happy, but it perked up again in milliseconds. "Don't worry, I promise I'm not stalking you."

"Well, considering you're the one that works here, I'd say it looks more like I'm the one stalking you. Which is also not the case I promise." She smiled, genuinely, trying to make up for her not-so-joyous greeting a second ago. "This is a really big coincidence though."

"I think it's fate." Jake replied instantly. "I mean, don't you think it means something that we see each other again so soon?"

"I guess it could. But I don't know what."

"Probably that you should have taken my offer for coffee." He smiled widely. "So, what do you say? You're not trying to deny fate, are you?"

"Well, today I think I have to. Remember those plans I had yesterday? Or I guess, really it was this morning, but whatever, the point is, I still have those plans." Valerie pointed out. She honestly wasn't sure if she found his persistence cute or annoying. It was a little bit of both at the moment. "So…I'm just kind of here for the coffee and the eggs to take back home." She nodded to her basket, half-full of random grocery items, hoping it would give him the hint.

"You know, you really are just a cutie, Valerie." He said with a smile, looking down at the groceries too. "So domestic, do you vacuum in pearls too?"

"Uhm…No. We don't have a vacuum. Only a Swiffer." She shrugged, smiling and scratching her hair. Jake laughed jovially.

"Alright then, do you Swiffer in pearls?"

"Nope. Not usually. Art's the clean-freak, he Swiffers everything." Valerie pressed her lips together to hide a smile, because it was completely true. Art had a never-ending vendetta against dust, and he really did use the freaking Swiffer or one of it's variants on all the flat surfaces of the apartment. He probably wouldn't be happy to know she found it funny though, so, for his spirit's sake, she kept her smiling at his expense to a minimum. Not that she would ever really complain about it, as it saved her from having to dust, she greatly appreciated his little quirk.

"Sounds like a happy little home you have there." Jake concluded, smiling widely.

"Yeah, well, I'm no Susie Homemaker either." Valerie shrugged. For some reason, her mind drifted back to the dream of their wedding. As wrong as it had gone, she found herself now almost wishing it had gone on longer. Just to see what it had felt like, even if it was all in her head. What would it be like to really marry Arthur? She knew he couldn't ever really ask her. For the same reasons they were now hiding away, two states away from what she had called home, completely cut off from friends and family. She had a sudden realization, brought on by the thoughts of marriage, of a somewhat important fact that she had just never seemed to think of before; she didn't even know Arthur's last name. How messed up was that? "Anyway," She realized she had been standing in a thoughtful silence for several seconds, more or less totally ignoring Jake. "I really should be getting on. You know, go home and…such."

"Okay." Jake's smile still refused to dim. It was actually starting to creep Valerie out a bit. "Well, listen, if you happen to stop by again sometime soon, don't hesitate to say hi. I mean, I don't want to force you to be friends with me of course, but I'd like to be on good terms."

"Yeah, I will. I shop here a lot." Valerie nodded, though she wasn't sure she meant it. "Well…uhm, goodbye then Jake." She gave him an awkward sort of wave, and walked to the register. She glanced over her shoulder as she left the store altogether, somehow feeling like she would see Jake standing by the register she had just used, waving at her enthusiastically, or some other form of an over-friendly goodbye. However, the store suddenly seemed totally empty. Weird.

She put it out of her mind, realizing she had been gone twenty minutes longer than she had told Art she would be gone, and he was probably just starting to debate going on the hunt for her. They really ought to work on getting new cellphones, so he didn't worry every time she was gone for an unexplained or unexpected amount of time. That was what you get for dating someone who was freakishly punctual. When he was there anyway.

Arthur was not actually waiting when she made it back, sitting cross-legged in the middle of the living room floor, very intently observing an electronic device in a silver suitcase, as it beeped and lit up at him. Valerie smiled a little bit, realizing she had just power-walked in the eighty-seven degree weather for nothing. He probably hadn't even noticed how long she had been gone. She walked into the kitchen, putting away the things that needed to be refrigerated and left the rest out, feeling a bit lazy and sweaty and not wanting to have to stretch up and put stuff in the top cupboards. She opened herself a soda from the refrigerator and turned back into the living room, sitting lightly on the edge of the couch, looking over Arthur's shoulder. He glanced back at her and smiled.

"Almost ready." He announced. "Just had to work out the last kinks."

"Okay." She nodded, smiling back. "So…I don't have to like, build any of it, do I?"

"No, you get to just sit back and enjoy it." The quirk of his mouth informed her that the statement had in fact been meant to sound like an innuendo. "It'll just be easier if you let me build the world, because I've done it before."

"Is it complicated?" She asked randomly, as he had never really gone over the physical properties of a Dream world, and though she had technically been a part of one before, she hadn't exactly taken the time to observe the lay-out. And besides, the part where someone consciously built something that they usually only experienced on a sub-conscious level and didn't remember half of it after they had woken up was the part she had trouble grasping.

"It's not exactly complicated after you get the hang of it. Once you figure out which kind of thoughts manipulate the Dreamscape, it's just a matter of applying them. Some people pick it up really quick, some people need a little more practice. You could probably learn it pretty easily, because you have such an active imagination." He explained, fiddling with some other random buttons within the case. "On the other hand, it's safer for me to build, and you to dream."

"Will you know we're dreaming?"

"Yes, but I'll be trying to keep you from realizing it."

"Why?"

"Assuming you don't want to see me get killed, so you're subconscious won't murder me."

"Of course I don't want you to get killed." She twiddled her hands around her soda can. "I kind of…already saw that."

"Right…I died last time, didn't I?"

"Only on the second level, and I knew I was dreaming at that point, but it was still really freaky seeing you die."

"Don't worry. We'll be safe this time." He turned enough to set his hand on her knee for a moment, squeezing lightly, a quick last-minute reassurance. "Nothing bad will happen, I promise."

"I know. I trust you." She nodded. "I just…I kinda worry about my subconscious being the one that kills you this time."

"I won't break up with you if your projections kill me." Arthur informed, as if he had read her mind.

"Even if they do it really brutally?"

"Well…I'd definitely have to wonder what I did to make you angry enough to kill me in a brutal way." Arthur looked over his shoulder at her, raising an eyebrow, silently questioning whether he had done something particularly obnoxious. "Is it something else?" He asked after a moment, his face shifting to a more curious expression.

"I mean, it's just…I know you can't use memories to build the dream, but what if I bring memories in? Bad ones?"

"What kind of bad memories?" He turned fully toward her now, rather than looking over his shoulder.

"I dunno. Maybe about Spencer? I don't want to bring that in." Valerie shrugged. "I won't be able to control my projections, right?"

"No, you can't, but the chances of one specific projection surfacing are fairly slim. Besides, you probably won't bring him in if the place isn't something that reminds you of him. And I promise you, I'm not building Los Angeles."

"If you say so." Valerie nodded, leaning forward to hug him about the neck for a moment. "I guess as long as one of us knows what's going on, we should be good, right?"

"Yeah. We'll be fine, it's just you and me."

The case was settled between them on the bed, Arthur gingerly hooking her up to the IV into the case. She watched his fingers on her wrist absently.

"All of a sudden, I'm getting kind of nervous." She said.

"There's nothing to be nervous about."

"I know. Maybe I'm excited too. I've just got butterflies in my stomach, that's all." She shrugged, pulling her arm back toward her body to nurse the small wound the needle had made, gently wiping away the single droplet of blood that had escaped, whilst Arthur went about finding his own vein. "Do you get excited?"

"Sometimes. Most of the time it's just business though. Usually we run the same patterns, because they work."

"Do you ever Dream Share just to do it? Like, just to experiment or build a world just for the fun of it?"

"No. That's how you get lost. When there's no one else to worry about waking up, you can get completely absorbed in the dream, you can forget that you have to wake up. Or you may not want to."

That had been a lie. Not the part about how you could get lost, that was completely true. The part where he said he had never tried to Dream just to Dream, that was the lie. The knowledge lingered in the back of Arthur's mind, but he didn't allow it to come forward. He had, once, gone under by himself. No one had been there, no one had even realized he had taken the case out of the warehouse. It had happened just before he met Valerie. Even now, over three years later, he couldn't remember what had possessed him to do something so foolish, and so potentially dangerous. It had been something like living two lives. While he had been under, he had lived something close to a year in his alternate world, and in the process, had practically forgotten that he had another life at all, afterwards, it had been difficult re-adjusting when the time on his clock had worn off. That had been the only time he had ever seriously understood why Dom had such trouble accepting reality. He had wanted to see how long he could go without his own projections realizing he was there, and instead, had nearly ended up losing his grip. That incident was what had made him what Eames called "a stick in the mud". He had learned, albeit the hard way, that the mind was not something to be trifled with, it could overpower the grasp one had on reality far too easily. He hadn't gone under alone since, and had begun to keep things in his private life totally separate from his work, never wanting to be confused that way again.

Looking at it from that perspective, this all suddenly seemed very wrong. This broke all the rules he had put down for himself. Somehow though, it didn't seem to be stopping him.

"Ready?"

"I think so…"

"We'll only go under for a day in the Dream world, so a couple hours up here. Just think of it as taking a really long nap."

"Okay." She nodded, ran her fingers through her hair, and fell back into the pillows of their bed, opening her arms to him. "I'm ready."

"Sweet dreams, Valerie." Leaning down into her arms, he kissed her delicately, and pressed the button in the case, to send them off into sleep.

* * *

After several days of deliberation, he had settled on building her a city. She had always loved Venice, the ancient stone architecture and canals had always held some mystical appeal to her. His basic design had been similar. In the center was a large Cathedral like building, the city spanning out from that. Cobblestone streets, waterways, the buildings looked like small castles huddled close together, with fountains and courtyards, hanging gardens, and an old palace-like structure rose up on the edge of the city. He had added in a few old style statues, as well as a large spire-like tower, based off one Valerie had shown him a picture of, though he couldn't remember the name of it to save his life. It was one of the more complex things he had built in his days as an Extractor, but he was pleased with the way it had turned out, he just hoped the set-up could keep anything Valerie didn't want to see from popping up. Because honestly, he didn't want any ghosts of boyfriends past, especially creepy manipulative ones like Spencer, getting into his head either.

"Arthur? Arthur, are you okay?"

All of a sudden, they were standing in the streets of the city, in the middle of what seemed to be a street fair. Valerie was looking at him from behind dark sunglasses, her hair wound up in in a loose knot, strands falling out around her face, holding some kind of potted plant in one hand, the other resting on his shoulder.

"Sorry." He amended, realizing she had already immersed into the world. "Just day dreaming."

"What about? You were pretty far gone." She lowered her hand back to her side, tucking her fingers into the pocket of her denim shorts.

"This and that." He shrugged with a small smile. "Sorry, what did I miss?"

"I was just thinking how we should get this for the apartment." She held up the little bright green plant. It was a leafy plant, bushy and cheerful looking. "The lady told me it gets really big bright flowers if it gets enough sunlight, so I was thinking maybe in the kitchen window? I mean, all San Diego really has is sun."

"I like it." He nodded, poking the leaves of the plant lightly. "It would give the place a little life."

"I'm glad." She smiled contentedly, before prancing back to the booth she had gotten the plant from to pay for it. She cradled the plant like a kitten as they perused more booths, hands linked lightly at the fingers.

Though for the most part, Arthur was keeping an eye on the Dreamscape, making sure things stayed stable, checking how closely the projections were watching them, he felt strangely relaxed. Valerie trusted him, her mind trusted him, and the projections actually seemed familiar with him, it all just felt…laid back. For the first time in a long while, he was actually enjoying the sensation of dreaming. He wasn't being chased down, he wasn't trying to find something buried under several layers of gun-toting projections, Mal was not lurking around every corner, and there was absolutely nothing but their shallow happiness riding on this. It felt nice to only worry about one thing, to only, even if it was only for the extent of this dream, be concerned with Valerie's happiness.

Her fingers curled warmly around his, her head tilted to lean lightly on his shoulder as they walked.

"Hey Art?"

"Hm?"

"I'm glad we decided to do this…whatever we're doing. Is this a vacation we randomly decided to take?"

"Something like that." He nodded, instinctively glancing at the nearest people passing by them, checking to see what the true reaction of Valerie's mind was. He was a little surprised that she had picked up on the unusualness of the situation so quickly, but when the projections didn't react at all, he figured it was just the familiarity getting to her. He had designed the place so she would like it, but maybe he had overdone it trying to model it after Venice, and she had picked up on it, wondering why it wasn't actually Venice. "Thought it was nice to escape for awhile, that's all."

"Yeah. It's nice." She smiled, turning her head and kissing his shoulder lightly. "You feel like getting some coffee?"

"Sure."

"Great. We just have to…find a café. Ugh, I hate not knowing where I am." She laughed as she said it, feeling at ease again, tugging him along by his hand. Arthur smiled and watched her face in the sunlight, happy to see her happy. There was something fulfilling in knowing that his creation had made her smile this way.

Valerie picked an outdoor coffee shop, and he had known she would, as he had tailored it to her tastes, set it up just the way she liked. He offered to pick the table while she got the coffee. Arthur wandered to a table near a large potted plant, setting their new houseplant in the center of the wrought-iron table.

A few streets away, he heard sirens. He craned his neck, looking up the street and saw a compact, European-style police car zip by on an intersection a couple blocks away. Something was wrong. Arthur had taught himself to dream sirens whenever he was being moved in his sleep, as a sort of precautionary step before the kicks they usually used to wake up. Because he had to time things for himself, when synchronizing the falls, he liked to have the few extra seconds to prepare if the scenery was appropriate. Was he being moved? What was going on up there?

"Arthur? Is something wrong? What are you looking at?" Valerie reappeared behind him, peering around his shoulder to look up the street with him.

"Nothing's wrong. I was just wondering where the police were going."

"Heh, you think they may be after you? Did you do something?" She asked him with a smile.

"Not here, no. I've been good."

"I don't believe you." She prodded coyly, linking her arm through his, "You're always bad Arthur."

"It's just to impress you." He countered instantly.

"Well, it works." She cuddled against his arm, "Oh. That's ours." She added, as the Barista called out an order for a pair of lattes. "I'll be right back."

"No rush." He smiled as she trotted off. She was so cute when she was happy. His mouth thinned as he stared back down the street he had seen the police car on earlier. He couldn't hear the siren anymore, but the fact there had been one at all had put him on edge. What did it mean? A rumble dragged his attention upward, but the sky was still clear. An earthquake? Something was definitely wrong. Sirens were one thing, he may have dreamed that because he had rolled over, but the rumbling? There was something going on in the real world. But what? He glanced over his shoulder, meaning to check on Valerie, but found all the projections in the café were staring at him. A man at the table nearest him rose to his feet, fingers wrapped around a knife he picked up from the table.

"Shi-"

A second rumble, this time accompanied by a full on quake, threw the projection off his feet before he could even take a step in Arthur's direction, while he was thrown to the side into a table. As quickly as it had started, the ground settled, the projections in a mob, moving in all directions. He didn't see Valerie.

He didn't see Valerie.

Arthur flung himself to his feet, scarcely noticing the sky had darkened inexplicably, until the drop in temperature sank through his shirt, but that was the least of his worries.

"Valerie! Valerie!" Panic erupted in his chest the chill of it spreading through his veins, settling in his stomach like lead. The café building was still intact, but it was empty. There was no sign of her. "Valerie!"

The sky opened up, loosing down sudden sheets of rain, practically blinding him.

"Valerie!" There was another quake, and suddenly there was no ground under his feet, Arthur could do nothing but shout for Valerie again.

* * *

Author's Note: I just want to say another thank you to my reviewers, as you are all very helpful in keeping me in line. Keep reading darlings. :)


	10. Clockwise, Chapter 7

**We All Move in Circles**

**Clockwise, Chapter 7**

Arthur woke up in the shower. Or, more accurately, he woke up dumped into the bottom of the bathtub at an odd angle, his arms held behind his back by what he guessed were handcuffs, the showerhead pouring cold water down on him, and Luther and the Foreigner leering down at him around the shower curtain.

"Well well, good of you to finally join us, Sleeping Beauty. We were beginning to wonder if you were lost down there," The Frenchman said sarcastically, reaching down to haul Arthur up onto his feet, Luther shutting the water off. The grogginess of the dream still hung about his head, making it difficult fully register what was actually happening, but he did know one thing. They had the upper-hand.

"Where's Valerie?" He asked, realizing he wasn't sure what had happened to her, and worried, considering the Forger, who was no doubt in the next room, didn't seem to like Valerie all that much. Assuming she was still the one calling the shots, Valerie's health was likely at risk. He fought to quell the panic at the thought of what they might be doing to her, or at least, tried to keep it from overwhelming him, panicking never got anything done. Luther gave him a mean-looking smirk, one that had Arthur's gut wrenching.

"I wouldn't worry about Bunny just yet. She's gettin' acquainted with your host."

Arthur resisted the urge to inform Luther that if anyone was a host, it was either he or Valerie, as this was their apartment, and they were the, albeit uninvited, guests. However, he didn't feel that it would be smart on his part to do so, especially considering his range of movement was limited at the moment, and he would have a hard time hitting back if either of them decided to get physical. He thus opted to remain silent. The Foreigner stared him down for a moment, then let out a huff of a laugh, crossing his arms.

"Damned if you aren't the slyest motherfucker I ever met though. You were hiding the information in her head, weren't you?" Luther looked at his companion with a confused expression. The latter gave his parody of a laugh a second time. "You must have told her something, and you were making sure she had everything hidden away, so if we tried to get it again we wouldn't find it. Smart move. Maybe Serena is right about how good you are after all."

"Serena?"

* * *

This was not how her day was supposed to go. Waking up with the woman who had been replacing Spencer in her bad dreams leaning over her had most definitely not been in the plan for the day. Neither had being put on the couch, handcuffed she might add, to stare at her across the coffee table, while she stared back at Valerie, looking pleased as punch, a sated grin on her shapely lips.

"We've never been introduced, have we?" She asked suddenly.

"Where's Arthur?"

"He was a little sleepier than you. Luther and Beau should be waking him up about now. You have a nice place," She observed nonchalantly, eyes now shifting around the room, "Looks expensive too. I must say, it was very noble of you to get a job, even knowing it was risky, to help out."

"How did you find out where we live?"

The grin turned ever-so-slightly nasty. "You should ask your new friend. Come here for a minute, will you?" She said this over her shoulder, in the direction of someone Valerie had failed to notice until now. They stepped forward at the words of the Forger.

"J-Jake?" For a moment, she wanted to ask why, and then she suddenly realized why her sixth-sense had been tingling the day she met him. She had only seen him from the corner of her eye, his hair in his face, but now, in context with the Forger, she recognized him as one of the team that had been in Seattle. Now that she really thought about it, she even remembered her mentioning his name in the Dream, while she had been on the second level. "It was a set-up. You were just figuring out where I lived."

"Yeah," Sadly, he didn't even look the least bit sorry about it, "I lost you the first night, but I just hung around the neighborhood, and followed you into the store."

That explained why she had never seen him before. She was fairly certain she at least knew the face of most of the employees in the little grocery store she always used.

"We were actually hoping that idiotically friendly attitude of yours would give him easy access, but it seems like you've wised up in the last two-months," The Forger added, crossing her legs primly, the sleek black skirt she was wearing hiking up just a bit. "I mean, after all, that's how you met Arthur, wasn't it? Inviting him in for no goddamned reason."

"How do you know that?"

"Valerie, I've been in your dreams. I know every teeny, tiny little secret about you. I know everything you know about him," she pointed towards the bathroom door, which Valerie assumed translated to the general vicinity of Arthur, "-which I must say, isn't much. Considering you're in love with him and what not," though it sounded like a casual remark, Valerie could instantly tell it had been said with the intent make her angry, possibly irrational enough to blurt things out. She made a conscious effort to stay calm, and not get defensive.

"You were right," she changed the subject, at the very least, she wasn't going to make it easy to get her riled up.

"What about?"

"We haven't been properly introduced. And since you know everything about me, I think you should tell me a little about you. Only seems fair."

"You know," The Forger gave her a wicked smirk, "-as much as I don't like you, I do have to give you credit, you are quite the spunky little thing. I can see why you'd appeal to him."

Valerie could only answer with a neutral face.

"Heh. And oh-so terribly stubborn as well. Here's all that you need to know about me, Valerie. My name is Serena Evanovich. Russian if you can't tell. And I've been chasing your little lover-boy around the world for six years now. I know I said his team originally, but really, we just wanted him."

"Why?"

"I have to admit," She continued, completely ignoring Valerie's question, "Even I didn't think that he was going back to Seattle whenever he dropped off the map. I was certain he had a safe-house somewhere he was hiding in, but to think, he was going halfway around the world just to spend a few days with you. Suppose no one would have thought to look for him in some unknown woman's apartment. What I can't figure, is whether he knew that, and that's why he kept going back, or it's true what old songs say, he was just blinded by love, and the fact that no one ever found him there was just a lucky break."

"You didn't answer my question. Why do you just want Arthur?"

"Let's see if he'll answer that, shall we?" Serena's false pleasantry all but fell from her face, her eyes and mouth hardening into a slight glare. "Jake, tell them to bring him here."

Jake gave her a swift nod and walked to the bathroom door, knocking and repeating what Serena had directed. The door opened the next second, and Luther appeared, hauling Arthur along by his arm, his hands behind him, presumably in handcuffs, the same as her. Valerie twisted to get a better look, to make sure he was alright; and though he was sopping wet, it looked like they had done no physical harm.

"Are you okay?" He demanded of her instantly.

"Yes, but-"

"Arthur. Have a seat," Serena directed the spot next to Valerie, and whether he wanted to or not, Arthur was plopped down on the couch. Or perhaps thrown was a better word. "Now then, I suppose you're wondering why we're all here?"

"We already know," was Arthur's stark reply.

"Ah, but I don't think you know the whole story," Serena raised a finger, as if she were asking them to wait a moment. "That's where things get important. You may even understand why I've gone through all the trouble," she reached into a leather portfolio at her hip, and with a flourish, removed a small glossy piece of paper, which Valerie soon saw to be a photo, Serena tossing it onto the table before them. "Recognize him?" She wasn't sure whom this was directed at, so Valerie looked a little more closely. It was a snapshot of a man, probably a little younger than Valerie's father, his graying hair in an eccentric halo. She shook her head at Serena, Art was silent and immobile, other than blinking to keep the water saturating his hair from dripping into his eyes, he didn't react. "He was one of the first to come forward to the police, claiming his dreams had been invaded. Surely you can guess he was called insane. Hmmm…How about this one?" She tossed another picture onto the table, a younger man this time, maybe the age of the Frenchman on the team, Beau if Valerie remembered correctly. This time she watched Art's face, the same as Serena, looking for some inkling as to why Serena was showing him these pictures, fairly certain at this point that she was just the audience to this. Still nothing. Serena got frustrated. She threw several more photos down on the table, Valerie losing count around thirty, each time, Arthur was asked if he knew the person, and each time, he remained stoically silent.

Serena seemed to have run out of the pictures, and was now leaning back in the armchair she occupied, her arms crossed, trying to stare Art down. She was not winning. Valerie had to admit, this whole situation was really wracking her nerves, her entire body tense and anxious. Not just because the apartment had been broken into the exact same way as it had been in Seattle, but because Art was honestly succeeding in intimidating _her_. He too radiated tension, but of a different variety than hers; his aura seemed to say that he was going to put a bullet in everyone in this room just as soon as he got loose. His intensity honestly quite unnerved her. She could say she had never seen him this way, and she wasn't quite sure how she felt about it. Serena propped her chin in her hand elegantly.

"I think I know what should be done," she announced. "Guys, take Valerie into the bedroom. See if she recognizes anybody."

"Wha-" Valerie was up-heaved from her spot, a pair of a hands under her arms. "Hey!"

"They're all victims of Extraction." Art broke his silence without so much as a change in expression, except for in his eyes, which darted briefly in her direction, silently assuring her that he was going to get them out of this. Or at least, he was going to try. She was dropped back down on to the couch.

"Would you care to be more specific?"

"I don't know anything else."

"Do you think just lying about it is sufficient?" She practically laughed. "Very wrong. Very wrong indeed, Arthur. We know that you had a lot to do with all of these people. Now you just need to tell us the context."

"Why?"

"Because hearsay is no good, and just claiming that you said what we want isn't proof," She explained it as if it should have been common knowledge, now removing a small recorder from the portfolio, the light atop it telling them that it was on and memorizing everything that had been said.

"Who are you exactly?" Art asked, eyes narrowed ever so slightly, as though thinking that he'd be able to recognize her by simply focusing hard enough.

"Suffice it to say I was once part of an organization with a keen interest in you. I was the one assigned to catch you, and now you'll be my ticket back in. Just as soon as you tell me everything I need. Of course, I'm hoping that you'll also lead me to Dominic Cobb. He's another person of supreme interest," Serena made a show of looking more interested in her nails than anything else. "Now, I'll ask you again. Would you care to elaborate on how you know the people in the photos?"

"No. I don't think I do."

"What if I decided not to threaten you?"

"Touch Valerie and I swear I'll-"

"Save your threats. We all know she's useless as anything but a bargaining chip," Serena practically snorted, and Valerie's blood heated slightly. There was no need for her to such a bitch about it, was there? "After all, you did just finish forcing her mind to lock away anything you had told her regarding not only Inception, but most likely any details she could have about your previous endeavors, am I right?"

"What?" Valerie broke in, feeling rather left out. Serena smirked.

"I see, you didn't know. You want to know why he was really in your Dreams just now Valerie? He was setting off your mental defenses. You may not have noticed, but he was forcing your mind to bury the secrets he pretended to be after, so that they were hidden from other Extractors, ourselves included. He was training you. You didn't even realize it did you? Tch. Why else do you think he set this up? He knew we were here the second we arrived in San Diego. He's been hiding a lot more than you thought, hasn't he?" Serena leaned forward on her elbows imploringly, smiling as if she knew just how bad she was getting under Valerie's skin. It was perfectly acceptable for Art to have things he hid from her, maybe even lie to her under certain circumstances, after all, it was perfectly human desire to do so, but to have someone else point it out to her as though she knew nothing? That she was not so much a fan of, especially not when the secret or lie had everything to do with her. "Well, no matter. He hid the details from us in your Dreams, but you'll still remember them while you're awake. And I imagine you'll be much easier to crack than he would."

Valerie wasn't paying a whole lot of attention to the threat. She was busy looking at Arthur, silently asking one thing: 'Was is true?' Had he only been so insistent on Dream-sharing so that he could hide what little he had told her?

"Art?"

"I didn't want to worry you." He said simply, one quick gaze the only indication that he was sensitive to her feelings about not only being lied to, but being manipulated by someone she trusted with so much. "I…I didn't want to do anymore harm than I had to."

"Sweet of you to say so, after you mind-fucked her. Don't worry though, we'll make her forgive you. What we're going to do will be much, much worse," Serena had a sick look of amusement etched on her face. "Now then, no time like the present. Let's see what we can yank out of that little brain of yours."

Serena rose to her feet, and advanced toward Valerie, who suddenly felt panic swirling in her stomach; she had no doubt the other woman was capable of mutilating her and losing no sleep. Beside her, Art was looking frantic, as though he hadn't believed until that very moment that Serena would make good on her threat. Valerie steeled her nerves and her body, as two sets of hands each held her by the shoulders, and Serena raised a hand, apparently planning to warm-up by slapping her around.

"I know the people in the photos." He blurted, just as Serena started her downward swing. She froze, Valerie opening her eyes, which had closed instinctively as she had recoiled from the blow she expected to be coming, peering up at Serena, who's evil smirk had grown significantly. "I know them all, because I was the Point Man on all the jobs where they were the Targets."

"Good. I'm glad we've reached an understanding," Serena said it in a mocking tone, and still gave Valerie a hard shove into the back of the couch, apparently just wanting to make a point. She returned to her chair, sitting primly. "Now, I want the good stuff. Locations, dates, inventory of what you stole, all the details. And I want a detailed account of what you did during the Inception Job. I need to know how you did it, as well as who paid you for it."

"I can't tell you that."

"Don't forget I don't plan to hurt you. I plan to hurt her," Serena nodded to Valerie, who was still gripped by two of the other team-members behind her. She wasn't sure which though, and she dared not glance, for fear of incurring the wrath of the ever-unstable Serena.

"There are fifty-seven pictures there. I can't tell you anything because I don't remember every single Extraction I've been on. Not as specifically as you'd like anyway. If you want the details, you'll have to get them from my memory."

"And why should we bother trying to Extract them from you?" Serena raised a delicate eyebrow at him, while her eyes remained stony. She didn't trust him, that much was clear.

"It's the only way you'll get what you want to know. You write it all down, and I'll sign it as a confession," Arthur said it passively, as if the whole situation rather bored him. "That will get you what you want."

"And why are you suddenly so compliant?"

"I want you to let Valerie go. You didn't need to involve her from the start, I want you to let her leave. Now."

"And here they told me chivalry was dead. Very valiant of you Arthur, if incredibly naïve. You know that letting her go isn't an option for me. Not yet. She's the only thing I have to hold over your head, seeing as she didn't give me any of your dirty little secrets last time. Tell you what, Luther will stay awake and watch over his little bunny, while we all go for a little romp in the Dreamworld. Once I have you where I want you, that is to say, locked away, she can go wherever she wants. Assuming, of course, that you tell the truth, and we manage to get a hold of the facts. Otherwise, you might as well look your last."

"Luther can't watch her."

"And why not?" Serena seemed to be getting steadily more irritated as the conversation went on. Valerie gave Arthur a warning glance. She didn't want to see her any angrier, especially considering she'd probably be the target of her impending outburst, not him.

"Because I don't trust him. And if I don't trust him not to hurt her, I can promise my head will be a living hell for you."

His voice was in just the right tone to send a chill up Valerie's spine.

"Fine. Jake, you watch her. If she so much as looks toward the door while we're under, shoot her."

"Sure."

* * *

Beau had retrieved the case Arthur and Valerie had been using not half an hour ago, setting it on the coffee table, in the center of those that would be going on this little mental excursion. She watched them hook Arthur up with a forlorn fog hanging in front of her eyes. She had the most convincing feeling that things were going to go terribly wrong gnawing in the back of her mind. Well, actually, 'worse' was the better word, seeing as things had already gone pretty damn wrong. Not only that, she couldn't shake the sudden mistrust she had of the stupid silver case. The last two times she had used it, she woke up with her world unraveling around her. And this time, Arthur had betrayed the utmost trust she had in him to ice the metaphorical cake. She had thought that at the very least, he would have told her something, perhaps warned her that he would be secretly messing with her head, whilst she went about in a happy little romantic get-away. Maybe it would have been less effective to 'train' her as Serena said, while she was aware of the fact, but at least having a hint of the event would have made her feel a little less like she'd essentially been stabbed in the back, directly in the spine as it were. He had promised never to do something like that again. To never go behind her back.

But his word had not held true.

Perhaps it was the stress of the situation, the thought that she may or may not die today, but Valerie found herself running over everything the last three years, wondering how many times Arthur had broken that same promise to her. It was like he had once said, it wasn't as if they'd ever catch each other being traitors. Though she did wish she could have little more faith in him during the dire circumstances.

"Put us under," Serena ordered, and Jake obediently hit the button.

Arthur slumped toward her, his weight against her instilled some form of comfort, despite her uncertainty. He turned his head to her ear, and in the last moment of consciousness, murmured:

"Run."

She pressed her lips into a thin line as the others dropped like flies after him, each slumping in their chairs or to the floor. Jake the only one left awake, perched on the arm of the couch on Arthur's other side, a nine-millimeter in hand, eyeing her levelly. How could she run? Arthur was sacrificing his own mind's safety for nothing but an impossible opportunity.

"So now we wait."

"That's right." Jake nodded.

"Just out of curiosity, do you try to score with all the girls that end up being your victims, or was it just me?"

Jake seemed suddenly sheepish, and scratched his ear. "Nah. Serena told me that was the way to go with you. She said if I acted like him," he paused to point at Art, snoozing in a deceivingly peaceful manner on her shoulder, "-then we'd be able to separate you two real easy, and we all knew that just as soon as we had you, he'd be easy-pickings."

"Well, you were way off, as far as acting anything like Art anyway."

"I didn't have a lot to go on, okay? Just what she told me." He snapped.

"Then she doesn't know him at all," Valerie replied, somewhat snidely, even to her own ears. It bugged her that Serena seemed to think she knew so much about both of them, but then didn't know a thing about Art's personality. "What's she got against Art anyway? Do you know?"

He fiddled with the gun for a moment, she figured he must have been debating whether it was okay to tell her. After a moment he seemed to decide it was.

"I'm not really sure. She said something about him ruining her career. I don't know how really. None of us do."

"How can you follow someone when you don't even know what her motives are?" Valerie asked, sincerely wondering why you would put your life in the hands of someone who didn't trust you enough to tell you why.

"Let's just say Vegas is not the place to try and make a living. I have a lot of debts I need to pay soon. Serena said she could help me with that if I helped her with this."

"So it's just for the money."

"What did you expect? Some romantic story about my kidnapped girlfriend? Or my poor hungry family? Sorry, no dice Val. I'm just a regular sucker with a gambling problem."

"Committing a crime to pay your debts seems a little counter-productive to me. That's all," Valerie shrugged, as best she could anyway.

"Yeah? And what makes him so different, huh?" He didn't point this time, but Valerie figured it was safe to assume that he referred to Arthur. "Why's he so special that he gets a free pass?"

"He doesn't. I mean, look at the situation we're in right now," Valerie pointed out. "We, well, more I, had to abandon everything that's been our lives for the last few years. He's hounded all the time, he can't do anything in the public eye that will draw any attention to him, and in all honesty, it was probably only a matter of time before someone caught him anyway, and he knows that. Nothing about his life is easy. You want to know how many times I've seen him in the last three years? Thirty-two times. The longest of which was only a week. You still think getting into this is a good idea?"

"And you think you know everything, do you? You don't know jack-shit Valerie, so stop acting so smart. You didn't even know he was fucking with you just then, did you?" Jake gestured to the case pointedly. "What the hell could you know about Extraction?"

"I know it makes people lonely." She finished simply, looking away from Jake, realizing that trying to talk him out of it now was pointless. He had his own ideals, and they didn't exactly coincide with her somewhat optimistic version. He saw Extraction, and the large pay-checks or other perks attached to it, as the only way to get what he wanted, in other words, he was the same way as Dom and Arthur. She did know it made people very lonely. Dom had lost his wife, and been taken away from his kids when they had needed each other the most. As for Art…sometimes it seemed as if she were his only loving, or even friendly, relationship. He had only ever mentioned Dom in the context of a friend, but even that had seemed like a very cut-and-dry affair. She wondered whether he had always been that way, distant, or if the long-term listing as a wanted criminal had made him such.

"Pfft. Who needs people around anyway? They don't ever help anyone but themselves," Jake scoffed. There were a few moments of quiet, the only sound the breathing of those in the Dream. "Whatever." Jake said suddenly. "Believe what you want, you just don't understand, because you've only ever been a target. I gotta take a leak. If you're not still on the couch when I get back, you're dead."

Valerie blinked in disbelief as Jake stood. Impossible opportunity? Or had Art suddenly become psychic? Either way, she wasn't going to complain.

The second the bathroom door clicked, she sprang into action, wiggling around a bit on the couch, and began to try and maneuver her rear through her own arms, ignoring the painful jabbing of the handcuffs. A few moments of frustrated struggling later, she had her hands in front of her, where she needed them, and slid her legs over the short chain linking them, getting to her feet. Now what?

Valerie cast around for the next part of her plan, as she realized she hadn't really thought of anything beyond this exact moment. She had been fairly certain that once she had gotten to this point, the rest would just fall into place. The problem was, it hadn't. Art had told her to run, but damned if she was going to just take off and leave him in this situation, even if she was a little upset with him.

First things first, she had a limited amount of time before Jake left the bathroom, and she was fairly certain his threat to kill her had been legitimate. She had to deal with him before anything else. She debated for a moment what the best way of going about this would be, and eventually opted for the tried-and-true, old-fashioned method of knocking him over the head with a heavy object. She scooped up the most solid looking thing in the living room, a two-day old wine bottle that they had been neglecting to take out into the recycling bin, and poised it awkwardly, gripped between her bound hands, standing at the ready beside the door. The knob turned, Jake appearing, not noticing her just behind him.

"Shit!" He had seen that she wasn't on the couch anymore, and Valerie swung, the bottle making solid contact with the base of his skull. He dropped in an instant, while she stared down at him in mild shock. It never worked that well in the movies. Hitting someone like that always bought a few seconds, but never literarily put the mystery killer on the floor. She leaned a little closer, sure that he was only faking it, that the second she turned her back, he would spring back to his feet and murder her, but the trickle of blood now leaking down his neck assured her that he wasn't moving anytime soon.

"S-sorry…" She muttered, worried that she may have just become a murderer herself. It looked as if he were breathing, but she wasn't going to hang around to play doctor. She had to go. Now.

She went to Serena's fallen form first, knowing that it would do neither she or Art any good to get out of here while they were cuffed, especially considering she didn't know how well Arthur could function with his hands behind his back that way. She searched the pockets of Serena's pricey-looking velvet jacket, finding a small silver key in one, and palm-sized leather folder in the other. A wallet? Curiosity got the better of her, and Valerie flipped it open, nearly dropping the small booklet as it sank in what this meant. Picture ID and a badge, declaring Serena a member of Interpol.

Fuck.

They were the police.

"Shit…shit shit shit…" The panic that had been numbed out by the adrenaline of her nearing escape came back with a white-hot, burning intensity. Had she just clubbed a motherfucking _COP?_ "Oh hell…we are so screwed…"

On the other hand, this also brought many questions to the fore. Like: why were the cops Dream-sharing? It was supposed to be illegal to use it for anything but the military's purposes, and she had always assumed that this applied to those that were meant to uphold the law. And since when did the police have grounds to stalk people across three states and break into someone's house? Twice? She could almost understand it if they had shown them a warrant, or had done it to search the place, but both times it had been to commit a crime. Nothing about this made any sort of sense. But that didn't really matter, she wasn't exactly keen on letting Art go to prison either.

Bending her wrist as far as it would go, she managed to unlock herself from the handcuffs, not taking time to try and ease the soreness of the red abrasions left by the metal, and moved back to the couch, rolling Art to an angle where she could get at his hands, freeing him from the bracelets as well. Not sure it was safe, but hoping to high heaven it was, she plucked the needle from his arm, and sat back, waiting for a moment. Her breath hitched when he didn't wake.

"Art. Arthur!" She shook his shoulder. Nothing. "Arthur, wake up! Please wake up!" She shook him a little more violently. "Arthur! Come on!" Still nothing. He wasn't stirring. But the others were starting to, noticing that their target had left the scene. She had to hurry, and then remembered that Beau and Luther had brought him in soaking wet. If that was any indication to something that would wake him up…

Valerie lunged to her feet, and made a beeline to the kitchen, filling a glass she grabbed from the counter with lukewarm water from the faucet, in too much of a hurry to wait for it to get cold, and ran back, spilling it everywhere. As a result, she only returned with a little less than half a glass, but figured it would work regardless, and thus splashed it in Art's face. Finally, his expression scrunched up at the sudden impact of the water, and his eyes opened groggily.

"Valerie? Why'd-"

"No time," She shook her head at him, and pulled him up into a sitting position by his shoulders. "We have to go. Right now, okay? Like really, really right now."

"Jake, what the hell went wron-" Beau didn't finish his sentence, the first of the others to wake up. He pulled a gun from under his jacket, Valerie dove to the side, taking Art off the couch along with her as she fell to the ground, the bullet following the explosion left a singed hole in the back of their poor cushions. Suddenly wide awake, Arthur reacted by shoving the coffee table as hard as he could, slamming it into Beau's chest, who had been kneeling on the other side.

"Run! Now!" He commanded, and Valerie obediently scrambled to her feet, reaching down to drag the still sluggishly moving Arthur to his feet as well. His reaction-time may have been good, but his other motor skills still had a bit of catching up to do. Valerie slammed her feet into sandals and ran for the door, Arthur right behind her, having nothing but somewhat dressy shoes to grab. She just hoped he could run in them. Serena screamed wordlessly after them, but she was ignored and they took temporary refuge in the elevator of the building. It was only three flights up, so Valerie hoped they wouldn't find the stairs in the time it took the elevator to reach the ground floor. She leaned against the cold metal wall, her heart pounding as if it were three-times it's regular size, taking a deep breath in an effort to relax.

"You shouldn't have pulled the plug."

"What?"

"If you'd left me under I could have kept them there for awhile, long enough for you to get out."

"I wasn't just going to run," she said, in slight disbelief that that had been his plan. "I had to get you out."

"I had it under control."

"How was I supposed to know that?" She demanded, probably a little angrier than she needed to be. She couldn't help it, she was under just a _little_ stress.

"I never wanted this to happen…" Art said, not bothering to answer her question, sounding depressed, far away. He swiped a hand over his face, staring at their blurry reflections in the elevator doors. "This is exactly what I never wanted to happen. I wanted you to live normally," He suddenly seemed angry, and jabbed the ground-floor button roughly, even though it was already lit-up, his gorgeous mouth pulling down into a frown, eyes fixing in a glare. "I didn't want you dragged into my life this way!"

"That's not really your choice to make Art. You can't say you love me but don't want me to be a part of your life. It doesn't make any sense."

"I didn't want you to be a part of _this._" He made a sweeping motion with his arm, evidently indicating the current circumstances. "I tried to keep you away from my job. You shouldn't have had to get mixed up in Dream Sharing."

"Then…why did you want me to?" Valerie asked, to which Arthur froze-up. She felt that now, she already knew the answer. Serena had been right. She'd thought she'd only been saying it to irk Valerie, but now…now she knew that what the other woman had said at least had some truth to it. Maybe it hadn't been purely for the purpose of manipulating her mind, but Art's deer-in-the-headlights reaction told her that he'd been hoping she'd forget that little detail. "Arthur…?"

"We're going to have to leave again." He changed the subject, and Valerie hadn't the heart to argue. He wouldn't give her anymore answers right now. Maybe later, when things had cooled down a little, but not now. He was under a little stress too, just the same as her.

"How can we leave?" Valerie asked, but didn't expect an answer, as the doors opened on the first floor. Art leaned out, checked in either direction, then stepped out, gesturing for her to follow.

"We need to find somewhere we can hide out for a bit first. Plan."

"We could-"

"You're not getting away this time!" Bellowed a female voice from the stairwell. Art grabbed her wrist and bolted, either not noticing or ignoring her wince at his firm grip on her already sore joint. He ran out into the street, just barely missing a taxi screaming down the road, Serena and her posse swarming after them, minus, for obvious reasons, Jake.

"This way," Valerie hung a left, grabbing Art's wrist with her free hand to bring him around the corner with her. They couldn't go to the police, that was a fairly safe bet. That left them, as far as Valerie could predict, with only one choice. The closest they were going to get to safe here, in this catastrophe, was Cooper and the shot-gun he kept under the counter, like every good bartender. Of course, she didn't know whether he would give them somewhere to hide. She still didn't even really know if he even liked her. She couldn't say she expected someone to go out of their way and stick their neck out for someone being chased by the police, but it was the single choice they could make. She was going to have to risk asking him.

* * *

They didn't slow down until the bright green neon of Dirty Harry's came into view, one or two people already there, even though it was barely three in the afternoon. It was a Saturday, so they were probably a few of Cooper's biker friends.

The door opened with an annoyingly loud creak, something Cooper had been claiming he would fix for the last week and a half, and everyone present glanced at them. As she'd expected, it was Dean and Jackson at the bar, clad in leather and denim, like they always were, smoking like chimneys. She was fairly certain the two of them lived in the back alley, as they hardly ever left. Cooper looked up from the whiskey he'd been pouring Dean, and gave her a long, appraising look, before turning the same glance to Arthur, who stood at her side, tense as could be. Cooper puffed his cigar thoughtfully.

"Val, you're off today, ain't you? 'Less you finally came in here to drink for a change."

"Cooper…we really need your help," Valerie said, not even wanting to bother trying to beat around the bush. Cooper was never one for subtleties. He rather disliked them in fact.

"Well, I'm not one to turn my back on a friend. Does it have something to do with the guy in here yesterday? He was asking all sorts of weird questions about you."

"The blondish one?"

"Yeah. I thought he just had a crush on you, askin' me if I knew anything about your boyfriend or something. I'm guessing that's this guy?" He tilted his head in Arthur's direction. Valerie nodded, and Cooper continued, "When he started asking me 'bout where you lived, I knew somethin' was up. Scared him off real quick. Not two seconds later though, some chick walked in wavin' a badge, told me to tell her everything I knew. I told her where she could stick it though, 'til she had a warrant anyway."

Valerie sighed a little in relief, Cooper was a man you could trust not to turn you in to someone, even if they were supposed to be the good guys. "They're after us," She explained, again deciding that there was no sense in trying to cover it up. Cooper would be more likely to help them if he felt that they were telling him the truth after all. It made more sense to just spill it all, while she was able. "They broke into the apartment, and they're trying to steal something important from us."

Cooper gave her the same evaluating look as earlier, and then stubbed out his cigar in a over-flowing ashtray. "You lot go hide in the back room. If anyone comes around asking for ya, I'll send 'em on their way," he decided, pulling another cigar from the pocket of his leather vest, lighting it in a single fluid motion. "Can't be for long though. Maybe a coupl'a hours. I do run a legitimate business after all. But I can give you a while to let the heat wear down."

"Cooper, you're the best." Valerie said gratefully, and sincerely meaning it.

"Don't be too grateful. Any damage they do is coming out of your paycheck," Cooper said it with a grin, both of them knowing he was too nice to actually cut her check. He was too nice to even kick his free-loading friends out, despite the fact they were both running a tab close to five-hundred dollars right now. "Go on now, 'fore someone sees you."

"Thank you Cooper. Really. You're saving our butts."

The back room of Dirty Harry's was at one point meant to be Cooper's office, but had become the staff lounge somewhere along the line; a comfy old couch and chair shoved against the opposite wall, a table and chairs next to a fridge, and a microwave sitting on the desk with Cooper's desktop. He hadn't really been generous on sharing his space to begin with, but had lost the fight with Jodi, the waitress who had worked here since the bar had opened. No one knew how, but she always seemed to have some dirty little secret to grab Cooper by the short hairs with. It was just a generally known fact that you didn't want to get on Jodi's bad-side.

Valerie took the opportunity to practically throw herself on the couch, taking a few minutes to breathe and settle herself. Art on the other hand stood awkwardly by the door, his hands in his pockets.

"Valerie…"

"Hm?"

"You're angry, aren't you?"

"Do you think I shouldn't be?" She asked, fixing eyes on him. He was looking at the floor. "What she said…she was right wasn't she? You tricked me."

"You know that's not true."

"No Art, see, that's the problem. I _don't _know that. You promised that something like that would never happen again. But it did, didn't it?"

"…Yes." He said so quietly, barely enough to qualify as a whisper.

"I see," She said simply, nodding at the floor, which she also seemed to find suddenly interesting. At least he had the decency not to lie to her face. "How much else of what Serena told me is true?"

"What else did she say?" She saw him look up at her from the corner of her eye.

"Did you really keep coming back to Seattle because of me, or was it because no one ever thought to look for you there?"

"I can't believe you'd ask me that," he ran a hand over his hair, fixing it into something close to it's usual style, as it had been a mess since he'd been unceremoniously woken up, suddenly very anxious. "That has to be the cruelest thing I've ever heard you say."

"Just answer me. Please," she practically begged, almost as hurt by the fact he hadn't instantly corrected her as she was by the fact she was actually starting to believe what that psycho woman had told her. She should trust Arthur, she knew she should, but something about his tone just wouldn't let her. She had to know. Had to hear it from him. No matter how bad the truth may hurt.

"Damnit Valerie, you know me better than that." Art's voiced kicked up a notch. He was starting to get angry. But she couldn't tell if it was at her or himself.

"But I want to be able to trust you again. And I can't. I can't until you just tell me the truth." Her voice was beginning to sound thin and petulant, like a lost child. What was she to do if she found out that the man she had practically devoted the last three years of her life to loving had just flat-out lied to her? Would it change how she felt? Or would her world end? Or would she simply carry on loving him, unable to change her ways now, no matter what he did?

"The truth? Okay, here's the truth. All of it," Arthur stuffed one hand back into his pocket, and combed the other trough his hair, returning it to a slightly unkempt nest. "You want to know why I didn't take your number the first time we met? Because right away I knew you were going to drive me crazy. I knew that I was going to keep coming back, but I also knew I couldn't drag you into the messed-up world I live in. I didn't want to be another schizo-guy for you. But then I just couldn't stop it. You were on my mind when I worked, you were on my mind when I slept, you were on my mind when I was trying to think of anything _besides_ you. I couldn't stop myself from getting on that plane and standing on your doorstep, no matter how many times I tried to tell myself that I was only going to be trouble for you. But for so long, things went so well. I mean, there were a couple times that I had to cancel coming to Seattle, because a job went wrong, or the police were getting close…but I really thought it was going to work out. It killed me that we hardly got to see each other, but I couldn't think of anything else…Valerie, I love you. I wasn't lying when I said you were my universe. I don't think I've ever said anything with more honesty. Anything I did, I only meant it to keep you safe, to keep you away from the parts of my life that would hurt you. Even when I lied to you earlier, got into your head, I was only trying to prevent you from being a target again. Protecting you is how I love you." He took a step toward her, but stopped suddenly, as though thinking she might slap him if he got too close. "I would have done anything to stop this from happening." It sounded desperate, a last ditch attempt to win her over.

Valerie rose from the couch, closing the ten-foot gap that had been between them. Her hand set lightly on his shoulder. He glanced at her, looking curious. Her arms snaked around him in a tight embrace. Maybe he had been right. It had been incredibly cruel of her to question him, just because some woman bent on breaking into his brain had alluded to the fact that he had broken her trust. Sometimes she forgot that he suffered too, in their times apart. Pulling the wool over her eyes that way had just been a further expression of his feelings, he had protected her from the fear that he knew would be generated by knowing Serena had found them, while he watched and worried in silence. He'd only wanted her to continue being happy, even knowing that he would have to break a promise to her to do so, even knowing she might be angry with him.

"I'm sorry," She mumbled into his shoulder. "I should trust you. I'm sorry."

"You can't say I didn't give you a good reason to doubt me." To her surprise, he laughed as he said it. But it was a hollow sound. Filled with bitterness. He rested a hand on the back of her neck, keeping her close. "I didn't want to lie. But I hoped they wouldn't be able to pinpoint us. I thought we could just lay low, and they would move on."

"I know Art. But now…well, now we don't have a say in it anymore. What do you want to do?"

"I don't know," The words came out as a deep sigh. "I just need a few minutes to think…"

"Okay." She agreed with a nod, pulling loose of him, just a bit. "Here, sit down for a minute. Cooper's got a coffee pot in the kitchen, I'll make some." She pulled Arthur to the couch by his arm, and more or less forced him to settle on the cushions, he seemed more apt to start pacing, but she figured he should at least try to relax first, calm his nerves a little. She leaned in and kissed him lightly. "Listen, Art, I really am sorry about the things I said. I was just scared. I just…I love you too, a lot. I know you were only trying to watch out for me, so I'm sorry I got upset. We can still be friends, right?"

He cracked a little smile, the reaction she'd been hoping for. "Friends for life, Valerie."

"Good. I might have had to try something really desperate if you'd said no. I'll be right back," she petted his hair back, absently fixing it again, probably not as neat as he would have usually liked, but all things considered, it would do. "Just relax. We've got two hours we can hide back here, we'll be safe at least that long."

"What comes after that is what worries me."

"Yeah. I know, but you can put it off for a few seconds, right?" She persuaded gently.

"I'll try."

* * *

The familiar sound of the coffee maker bubbling and hissing at her was unusually soothing to Valerie. She watched the glass pot slowly fill, rubbing her temples with her index fingers. She still hadn't told Arthur that Serena was a member of Interpol. But, on the other hand, it had seemed like a really bad time to spring such a thing on him. He was already frustrated, worn out, and worried, he really didn't need to hear that it was the police that were about to catch them, not a crazed fan. She had no doubt that such information would only succeed in giving Art a class-A anxiety attack. Not something either of them needed. Cooper passed through the kitchen, nodding solemnly at her as he placed a Dean and Jackson's glasses in the sink. She nodded back, knowing the kind of risks Cooper was taking in order to help them couldn't be easy on him. They should try to leave as soon as possible, and spare him the trouble they were no doubt going to cause. The coffee pot beeped, informing her that it was done, and Valerie poured out two mugs worth.

How could they possibly run this time? They had literally been left with nothing. Valerie didn't even have her wallet or anything. She had the jeans and slightly worn-out t-shirt she was wearing, and that was all. She gave the sides of her head one last, strong massage and headed for the back room again, bearing coffee. It just wasn't fair anymore.

Arthur was up and moving around when she returned, going back and forth across the floor at a rapid pace.

"We're not going to get away." He said bluntly. "We're just… not going to get away."

"Come on, don't be like that. We can run, like last time. We'll just try again, somewhere further away."

"If we did…what? Another two-months? Maybe a year if we're lucky? That won't get us anywhere. We have to do…something."

"But what can we do?

"…You should go to the police. Just don't tell them about me, and go to the police."

"I can't."

"Why not? Just say they were after you rather than me, I don't think they'll look very hard for someone who they can't prove exists anymore."

"Art, I think they are the police," Valerie explained, setting the coffees down on the desk, by the computer. "I know Serena is. When I was looking for the key to the handcuffs in her pockets, I found her badge. She works for Interpol."

For a moment, he just stared at her, clearly not thinking she was serious. But when is sank in, he crumpled.

"Shit." Arthur turned sharply and gave the armchair a good swift kick. "Goddamnit all!"

"Sorry…I thought you should know."

"That…really limits us. We don't have many options now." Art rubbed his hand over his forehead. "Not that we had a whole lot to start with…" He was silent, looking thoughtful for a long moment. "Okay. Here's the deal. You're going to have to go someplace else, someplace safe," He strode over to the desk, grabbing a pen and a sheet of paper, scribbling on it somewhat frantically, "-this account number is for one of my aliases. You'll have to get the bank card out of my stuff back in the apartment-"

"Aren't you coming with me?"

"-go to this address. Tell him who you are, and explain what's going on-"

"Art, what are you going to do?" Her voice barely seemed to reach him.

"You'll be safe there until I-"

"Arthur! What are you going to do?" She finally broke into his manic planning, by way of nearly shouting at him.

"I'm going to let them chase me. In the opposite direction."

"No, that never works. You have to come with me, we can just run again, it'll be okay," She insisted. It had to be. Anything would be better than Arthur leaving like this and risking his life. Honestly, she wasn't sure she could handle running on her own either.

"If we run now, we'll never be able to stop. You have to at least let me try to fix this."

"You can't fix it Art. The only way it's going to stop is if you go to prison."

"It won't have to come to that."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not entirely convinced Serena is really with Interpol. She pulled too many illegal stunts to be a real cop. Not to mention her following is a less than upstanding crowd. Trust me. If I turn her in before they catch me, I may be able to get us both out of this."

"But what if you can't? And why can't we go together?"

"It'll work."

"But what if-"

"Valerie, you just said you would try to trust me. This is the only way we can ever hope to get our lives back to normal." He reached out to her, framing her face in his hands. "I want you to be safe. That's why I need you to leave, to go somewhere I know you'll be out of their reach. You know I'll come find you. I always will."

"But…how long will that take?" How long would she have to live without knowing if he was alright this time?

"I don't know. But whatever happens, just have a little faith in me alright?" He leaned down, resting his forehead against hers. "I'll come back to you. I swear I will. I just need a little time."

Valerie circled him in her arms, clinging, wanting to convince him that he couldn't do it alone. The words stuck in her throat. "I don't want to go without you, but if you really think this is the only way...you better come back whole."

"I will," He promised with a kiss. "I'll see you again, no matter what I have to do to get back."

* * *

It had taken her two buses and a cab, but Valerie finally stood in front of the house with the address matching what Art had written down for her. It looked bright and welcoming, but it gave her an ominous feeling. Everything she owned was once again crammed into the backpack slung over her shoulder, only this time, packing up and moving to some unknown location, she was lonely. She and Art had separated just after they snuck back into their own apartment, Jake still unconscious on the floor, and taken the important things with them. She had called the hospital for him from the bus depot. Valerie ran a hand through her hair, and took a few hesitant steps to the door, knocking timidly.

She heard children's voices on the other side, yelling that there was someone at the door, a moment later, it opened, a tall, blondish man with blue eyes looking back at her, the kids peering around his legs at her in supreme interest.

"Uhm…Hi." She waved awkwardly.

"I'm guessing…you're Valerie."

"Yeah…I-"

"Let's talk inside."

* * *

Author's note: Whew. What a chapter. It was really long, about 2000 words more than what I usually write. Daaammn. Also, I was very loathe to do three 'Clockwise' chapters in a row, but it just didn't flow right interrupting it with a 'CounterClockwise', so I hope it's better this way. Anyway, consider this your Christmas present from me, my lovely readers, as today is the 25th. A few random observations I made while writing this are that A: Some parts really don't turn out as well as others. I'm sorry about that. I'm just not very consistent I suppose. B: I realized I generate a lot of Arthur's personality from other movies Mr. JGL has been in. For example, his obsessive sort of love comes from his character in 'Brick'. That's a good movie by the way. If you like Joseph, you'll likely enjoy it. It's very thoughtful and intriguing. Anyway, I bid you adieu. Enjoy, as I always hope you do.


	11. CounterClockwise, Chapter 4

**We All Move in Circles**

**Counter-Clockwise, Chapter 4**

"Art? What are you doing up so late?"

"Couldn't sleep," He shrugged, dragging tired fingers over tired eyes. It was a pity, because he wanted nothing more than to sleep right now, but he couldn't seem to keep his eyes closed. So instead, he had been sitting at Valerie's kitchen table for the last hour, half trying to bore himself to sleep with a magazine she'd had laying around, half trying to kill time until she was awake and he could make coffee without worrying about the noise. Whichever happened first.

"You've been having that problem a lot lately," She noted, and he could read the mild concern in her eyes. He must have looked awful. She crossed the room to sit in the chair next to him, her hands on her knees.

"Mm. Sorry if I woke you. I can turn the light off."

"No, it's okay. Do you want to take something? I think all I've got is some Tylenol PM, but that should help."

"No. I really don't think I want any more chemicals than necessary in my system."

"It's because of the Dreaming compounds?" Concern darkened her eyes just a fraction more. He realized how that must have sounded now, how that had probably made him sound like an addict, or at least, an over-user.

"Technically, yes."

"Technically?" She repeated, eyes never leaving his. "Technically, how?"

"As in…We've been inducing sleep too much, and it will take me awhile to start sleeping naturally again."

"Did something…happen?"

"No. Nothing bad anyway. Why do you ask?"

"Because I can tell. Something went wrong, didn't it?"

"No. It just took longer than we thought, that's all." Which wasn't completely a lie. It was even mostly true. Just missing one very big, major, important detail. The reason it had taken longer than expected was because yet again, Dom had started following the Shade that was his messed-up representation of his wife. Mal had nearly managed to drag him under. Nearly. If it had been anyone besides Dom that was risking their neck on a job the way he had, Arthur honestly would have just left them to their own devices. He wasn't keen on getting caught because someone else screwed up; after all, he had someone who missed him, someone to come back to. He couldn't allow himself to get caught now. Though he had never informed Dom of the matter, the two of them were really in the same rapidly-sinking boat. Though it was easier for Arthur to come back to Valerie than it was for Dom to ever feasibly get back to his children. That was probably why he continued to follow Dom on his Kamikaze-style jobs, it was a kindred feeling they had, and Arthur may have felt a little guilty that he had an easier time of soothing his loneliness. Though, he was also nothing if not reliable to stick to the team he picked.

Valerie's hand on his arm brought him out of his reminiscence. "Sorry. Day dreaming for a minute there."

"Day dreaming in the middle of the night? Kind of a funny concept, isn't it?" Valerie said with a little half-smile.

"Suppose so." They were silent for a minute, then Valerie let out a breath in a slight hiss.

"Come on. You look like you could use a little air," She informed. She grabbed a nearly threadbare sweater off the back one of the chairs. He didn't move, a little stunned by the sudden change in the direction of the conversation. "Well, come on. It's not like I'm going to try and throw you out a window Arthur," She grinned coyly, sliding her arms through the sleeves. "You wouldn't fit through any of them."

"You don't plan to go walking at this time of night, do you?"

"Not far anyway." When he still didn't move, she pranced her way back across the kitchen to him, grabbing his arms and pulling. "You can't just sit here all night. You should get up and move around, try to tire yourself out. Grab a blanket."

Not sure why she was suddenly so motivated, but figuring he would just listen to her, Arthur scooped up one of the throws always laying around her living room, and followed along behind Valerie, who was shuffling to the door in her favorite Nightmare Before Christmas slippers. She lead him to the elevator, taking it all the way to the top floor, and then to a set of stairs at the end of the hall. The heavy metal barricade was locked, a padlock and iron bar holding it secure. Valerie didn't seem fazed, standing on her toes and pulling a key down from the top of the doorframe, where it had apparently been precariously hidden.

"Tenants aren't exactly supposed to be up here," She informed him of the obvious in a whisper, "-but the landlady doesn't really care. It's all the people on this floor who complain that it's too loud if people are on the roof. If we're quiet, they won't notice." A gush of chilled air rushed into the hallway as Valerie pulled the door open, stepping brazenly into the dark stairwell, as if she did this everyday. Then again, as well as he knew her at this point, he'd say she probably did. Valerie wasn't a rule breaker per say, but she definitely wasn't afraid of getting in trouble. At least, not if she thought she could talk her way out of it again. Arthur just hoped she knew what she was doing, and followed her.

She was at the edge when he emerged from the dark hall, onto the brightly lit rooftop. She was bracing her arms on the wall around the perimeter, leaning out slightly, smiling widely.

"The only place in Seattle with two skies."

"What?"

"This is the only place with two skies. See?" She gestured grandly at the scenery before her. Arthur walked to her side, staring out as well. "The lights in the city look like their own stars. It's like standing on the edge of two universes, one's just a reflection of the other."

It was a stretch for him. But for her… it came easily. She saw things like this in everyday life. Valerie could find beauty in anything. Just one of the things on a very long list of reasons why he felt the way he did about her.

"Is there a reason you like rooftops so much you're willing to risk angry neighbors for them?" Carrying the blanket under his arm, he traced her footsteps to the edge of the building, leaning his elbows on the railing. From here, he could almost believe what she'd said, about there being two skies. It seemed that one would swallow you from above, the other drown you from below.

"Not really. But I guess, when I was a kid, at my parents house, the house I grew up in, you could climb out the window in my room to get on the roof. I would always go out there when I needed some me time, because both my sisters are afraid of heights, and my parents never thought to look for me there. I spent hours on my roof at home, just hiding from everybody. I guess now, it's just sort of a habit I've made."

"Well, if you need room to think, you've sure got it up here."

"What about you?" She asked, turning to lean her lower-back on the plaster wall, staring over at him.

"What about me?"

"What were you like as a kid? What were your parents like? You never talk about things like that."

"I don't really know. Probably obnoxious. I never thought to ask my parents," Arthur shrugged. He was beginning to feel the familiar sensation of his heart abruptly scabbing over. 'Parents' was not exactly a tender word for him.

"Do you not get along with them?" Valerie asked softly.

"I…haven't spoken to my parents in over ten years. The day I dropped out and became a thief, they decided they wanted nothing to do with me anymore. I can understand it though, don't get me wrong, I'm not upset about it at all. They were good people, honest to a fault, and they worked hard to get me into school. And there I went, and threw it away for a life of crime."

"I don't think that's true. I don't think you threw it away so casually. And I also think you're lying when you say you're not upset," Valerie said, crossing her arms around her stomach.

"You're a psychiatrist now?" The words came out more crossly than he'd intended.

"No. I'm not. Sorry," She shrugged it off, tucking loose strands of hair behind her ear. Her shoulders were shaking.

"You ought to be," He told her, unfurling the blanket and wrapping it around her shoulders, pulling it closed over her chest. She wasn't really mad, she very rarely was, but he felt he should be nicer after his little snap. "You can read me like book."

"Well, as mysterious as you are, I know enough about you to know the face you were making wasn't a good one."

"You know more than you think," Arthur said, relinquishing the blanket when her skinny fingers appeared around the seam, holding it close to her body.

"Oh really?" She questioned with a small laugh. "You're like dating a ghost Arthur. A really sweet, sexy ghost."

"I wish it didn't have to be that way." The mumbled words were something he had not dared to speak for several months. Wishing only gave way to longing, and before he knew it, he might not be able to leave, to go back to things he needed to do. He might just end up disappearing long enough to lead someone right to her. "My parents…" He started, trying to finish the bridge she had started building between them. But it had been so long since he'd thought about them, let alone talked about them, he found the idea of discussing his practically forgotten past strange, maybe even surreal. No one had asked him about it in a long time, and everything about the conversation seemed rusty. "My Father wasn't exactly…supportive. He was the kind of person who was never proud of what you accomplished, no matter how much work went into it," Valerie nodded, her eyes passive, absorbing the words he said to her like they were the holy scriptures. "To try and make up for it, my Mother coddled me my whole life. In the end, it just made me act out. I knew I could do whatever the hell I wanted, because if it made my Father mad, my Mother would let me get away with something twice as bad, convinced I was just going through a phase, and that I'd end up hating them if they punished me too harshly. It took her until my first arrest to realize that her phase theory was completely off."

"How old were you?" Valerie asked gently.

"Sixteen. Some accomplices and I decided that instead of summer jobs, we were going to make some quick cash robbing some rich guy's house. I wasn't…as good as I am now, totally missed the security system. They left me to take the fall, and next thing I knew, I was the bad influence in the neighborhood. My parents sent me to College out of state, probably hoping I would shape up, but also probably so their friends would forget about their troublemaking son. Needless to say it made me worse, and, well, here I am." He finished the story with a grand gesture at himself.

"They loved you," Valerie said quietly. "They did. Some parents just don't know how to handle-"

"A bad egg," He inserted for her.

"You're not a bad egg. You're just…not as good a rule-follower as the rest of us."

"Why do you always have to make me sound like such a good person?"

"Because you are. Even if your job is a little less than noble, that doesn't mean you aren't. You let me see the good parts anyway."

"Maybe you just want to believe that," Arthur shrugged, tucking his hands into his pockets. "You said so yourself, you have a tendency to go for the bad guys." The blanket looked like wings sprouting from her shoulders as she opened her arms to loop them around his shoulders, their body heat mingling in the confines of the fleece blanket.

"I'm going to keep believing it, you're not a bad guy. You've been nothing but good to me Art. And you've never given me any reason not to trust you."

"I think you're the one who's too good to me." Arthur remarked with a light laugh, ruffling her hair. She'd been growing it out the last two and half years, and it was getting quite long for her efforts. She often remarked that her hair was her best feature when it was long. He'd always thought it was her soul, but, well, that was also just him being hopelessly romantic.

"Can I ask you something Art?"

"Like what?" He asked, settling his arm around her shoulders, while they stared out at the lights together. Arthur suddenly realized that this was something it had never occurred to him to want in life. Someone to stand on a rooftop and have deep, meaningful conversations with. He'd seen it in movies often enough, something akin to the relationship he and Valerie had, in everything from his favorite classics to the new blockbusters. He knew well enough that it was something everyone should want, but he couldn't say it had ever occurred to him personally to desire that kind of bond in his own real life. Now that he had Valerie though, and she gave him that feeling, gave him that connection, he didn't know how he had survived so long without it. It seemed the most basic of human needs now, right up there with breathing and eating.

"Why did you get into Extraction?"

"Honestly?" She nodded her head against his shoulder. "It was because it got me what I wanted."

"What did you want?"

"Just the basics. Money, mostly, I can admit that. The possibility of endless creation is one thing, but without a practical application, Dream Sharing is just another chemical addiction. I'm not saying what I do is worth a Nobel prize, but at least I'm using it for something other than escaping a life that's completely worth living, so long as you're willing to put a little effort into it anyway." Arthur shrugged as he spoke, jostling her head on his shoulder, which he quickly attempted to remedy by going very still again. She cuddled him absently, as though she had barely noticed his movement, looking like she was thinking very deeply. "What I wanted, was a life that I was satisfied with. And that's what I get, most of the time anyway. Besides, I can't say that nothing good ever came of Extraction. If it weren't for that, I never would have been fortunate enough to stumble into your life."

"But…weren't you running from someone that day? So it's more like…we should thank whatever little screw-up happened."

Arthur bit back a some-what snarky reply. There was no way he was going to stop cursing Dom every time he dragged Mal into a dream. They may be in the same boat, they may even be friends, but Dom was still a ticking time bomb, and sooner or later, Arthur figured he would have to pull the plug on their ventures. Or at least, on his end of things. It may seem cold of him, but he would only put himself so far in danger before his good sense reminded him it was there. "I'm not ever going to regret it, but let's just say I'm not in a hurry to say thanks for nearly getting shot."

"It's okay. I understand," Valerie laughed, "The kiss probably wasn't worth dying for."

"It was worth several days of torture, at least."

"If you say so," She smiled, and nuzzled up closer to him. "Though I'm not sure whether that was creepy or romantic."

"Yeah, I don't know either," He agreed, glancing at his watch through her hair. "You should probably go in and try to get some more sleep."

"I think…I want to stay out here with you. I've always wanted to watch the sunrise with someone special."

"Don't you have work?"

"I can always call in for a day. Even I can get away with breaking the rules once in awhile."

"Guess I really am a bad influence," Arthur observed neutrally.

"Not to worry dollface, you won't have to bail me out of jail anytime soon."

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Arthur wondered if he really was a bad influence. Was he bad for Valerie? She could have easily found herself someone who could always be there for her, who didn't keep secrets from her the way he had to. She could have found herself someone who wasn't, as she so accurately put it, a ghost. It didn't matter that they spent every second they could together as long as he was in Seattle, it didn't matter that they spent every night dreaming about each other. It didn't even matter that what he felt for her was indescribably passionate love. The fact remained that he couldn't tell her that, no matter how he tried. Arthur had an underlying paranoia, a gnawing little feeling, that maybe Valerie didn't feel the same. For all he knew, he was just something fun to do on weekends. But that didn't stop the annoying little butterflies that got into his stomach whenever he thought of her, whenever he was on his way to see her, and it would absolutely kill him, if he just so happened to let it slip that he was in love with her, when all she wanted was someone to cuddle, and he ended up scaring her off. Or he supposed, really, he'd be scaring himself off, but it was a moot point, as either way, it would ruin his single normal relationship. On the other hand, if she didn't at least feel something like what he did, would she be doing this to him?

Arthur had always believed that love went both ways, that to be in love, you had to feel love. He'd never thought that unrequited feelings were worth dealing with, and while he hoped and prayed that his weren't going totally unnoticed, he would let Valerie move on, look for someone else if she ever so desired. It was a confused set of feelings he had, part of him never wanted to let her go, and was jealous every time another man so much as looked at her, while a more sensible part of him wanted her to be content, whether it was with him or not, this part realized that he was, in as nice of words as he could find, not really a part of her everyday life.

"Valerie…" He found himself mumbling against her hair.

"Hmm?" She responded sleepily, leaning into him heavily.

"Are you happy…when I'm here?"

"I'm sort of a happy gal, Art. But when you're here, I'm absolutely euphoric." She smiled widely up at him. He smiled back. For a moment, the tug-of-war between his two desires faded. So long as she could be happy, he would keep coming back. Although, the cloud still hung over him, just a little. She waited and worried when he was gone, unable to contact her. But, for the time being, she was able to take all of this, along with all his flaws, perfectly in stride.

But Arthur knew there was only so much any woman could take at the hands of any man, before she started trying to find salvation in the bottom of a bottle. Or, in their case, maybe it would be somewhere between silver case and Limbo.

"Don't worry so much," Valerie interrupted his thoughts, as though she had known exactly the moment his mind drifted back to negative thoughts. "Art, you said once that we were going to make it work. And we will. You don't need to worry about me, I'm happy. Really, all the time. When you're not here, I just think of things we did together, or sometimes I sleep in your shirt, and I don't miss you as much, it makes things easier on me, because you leave me nice little memories. And I promise, on my honor as girl scout, and a once-good little churchgoer, I have not, and will not, ever cheat on you."

"You were a girl scout?" He asked, looking down at her skeptically.

"Well, yeah. I mean, my mom forced me too. I only made it on the Brownie level though, because I punched this other little girl in the eye when she pulled my hair. I wasn't…a very good girl scout, but I was one at one point, and took the oath nevertheless, so I am allowed to swear on it."

"I get the feeling you weren't very good in church either."

"Yeah, well, I didn't say I was going to swear on the bible. My mama raised me better than to use the Lord's name in vain." She said it in a tone that was one step down from laughter.

"Right, and I've never heard you yelling 'Jesus fucking Christ' when you drive downtown."

"Smart ass," She grumbled with a smile, bumping him lightly in the stomach with her fist.

"I know. Part of my charm though, isn't it?"

"Yeah, right up there with your irresistible hubris."

"Don't you ever use simple words? It's too early for me to translate 'hubris'." Arthur groaned as convincingly as he could.

"That's what you get for dating a writer, Art," She pointed out in a sing-song.

"Yeah well-"

"What the _hell_ are you doing up here at five in the fucking morning?" Demanded a shrill voice from the direction of the stairwell.

They both turned, now tangled in the blanket, to stare at the Building Manager, Leslie, Arthur believed Valerie had once told him her names was, in a ratty blue house-coat, even more worn purple slippers, with curlers in her blonde hair to complete the look.

"Uhm…we were just-"

"I've been called by every tenant on the top floor, saying they could hear you talking for the last half an hour. _You _know better," she jabbed a finger at Valerie, and then, as if suddenly just realizing she'd never actually seen him before, she redirected the finger to Arthur. "And who the hell are you? Don't you have any good sense to not disturb other people's sleep-"

Whilst Leslie continued raving, Valerie leaned her lips towards Arthur's ear. He inclined his head, so as to hear whatever she was about to say over the other woman's shrieking.

"Does it seem odd to you that she's making more noise than we were?"

"A little. We could always go back to your room and be even louder."

"You, Arthur, are an absolute dog." She grinned devilishly as she said it, and to prove she knew exactly what he had meant, she made sure to brush up against him in just the right way to send a spark of awareness through his entire body as she slid out of their blanket cocoon. "Let's go see just how loud we'll have to be to drown her out." She grabbed his hand, and took off at, for lack of a better way to say it, a brisk walk.

"Where the hell-" Leslie's voice faded away as they vanished back into the hallway, Valerie laughing in elation.

All his dark thoughts faded away, and his mind filled instead with desire, a want to make her happy, to show her how he felt, even if it was only for a few hours of sheer bliss.

* * *

Author's Note: Well well, there's the last of the CounterClockwise Chapters. I'm actually a little disappointed that I only got four in there, but, well, there could only be so many flashbacks before the story lines intersected. So there you go. And I suppose this all went a little differently than I had planned anyway. The original of the entire story was once called "There's something to be said..." and revolved strictly around Val and Art not saying they loved each other (And, funny thing, I planned to end it with a chapter similar to this). But you'd be amazed how quick it got out of hand. This story really had a mind of it's own, it felt a lot like it was writing itself sometimes. Anyway, this is a little shorter than usual, but I figured the last one was a little long, so I could get away with it. :) Stay tuned for the exciting conclusion (I just watched a bunch of old cartoons, what can I say), as we'll be tying up everything in the next Clockwise. I bid you adieu, and as always, hope you enjoy.


	12. Clockwise, Chapter 8

**We All Move in Circles**

**Clockwise, Chapter 8**

* * *

_First things first: Just want to Clarify, I totally bullshitted James' Age. He struck me as about three or four in the movie, so I figured he'd be about five by the time this rolled around. Yeah, so, if anyone knows for sure what his age his, please, please, please correct me. I'd appreciate it. Also, I just want to give everyone who has supported, read, added, reviewed, whatever, a big thank you. I probably would not have carried on otherwise, so thank you to all, and a pre-thank-you to anyone who decides to add or review this story after this. You will be appreciated as well. :) Now, on to the finale!

* * *

_

For the first week Valerie stayed with Dominic, she was a walking pile of nerves and anxiety. She hardly ate, barely slept, and spent most of her day wearing holes in her socks from pacing around in absentminded circles. For the first month, she was worried, depressed, and could only think of horrible things happening to Arthur. But by the end of the third month, she decided it was time she shaped up, and started earning her keep. She hunted down a job at the nearby Starbucks, working a three hour shift between the lunch rush and picking up Philippa and James from school.

Dom had gone back to his roots, and was in the process of starting up an Architecture and Landscaping company, with what may or may not be a little under-the-table funding from Saito. While eventually, when the company had some established customers and got it's feet under itself, Dom would be able to pick his own hours, for now, he was buried up to his elbows in paperwork, half-completed plans, and resumes, even though, in all actuality, he would probably only consider hiring Ariadne. So Valerie volunteered to keep a handle on things at the house between the kids getting home, and whenever he happened to stumble through the door with a box of miscellaneous papers. She cut her hair and lightened it up, able to pass herself off as a cousin of Dom's, just so that no one would ask questions as to why a strange woman was living in his spare bedroom, and she habitually looked around for cheap apartments, even though Dom constantly reminded her that she ought to stay until Arthur gave it the 'OK'. After all, the reason Arthur had sent her to him, and not to a distant corner of the world, was because nothing served protection quite like Saito's obscene amount of money. The cops wouldn't go within fifty feet of Dom, or his house for that matter.

Before she'd even realized the time had passed, she had been in the spare room for a year, and still, not one word from Arthur. The day she noticed this, Valerie suddenly began to sob, for reasons she simply could not explain. She cried for hours, and Dom could do little but stand in the bathroom doorway and bring her a fresh box of tissues when she ran out, offering a kind or reassuring word when he thought it might help. She asked him if he thought maybe Arthur had been killed. He didn't have anything to say to that, and could only shrug and shake his head. Philippa had finally been able to snap her out of it when she walked in to announce that her Barbie's haircut had gone terribly wrong, and she needed Valerie to fix it, showing them the doll in question, which had become completely bald on one side. With a quavering laugh, Valerie had nodded, wiped her eyes, and then she and Philippa spent the rest of the day pretending to own a beauty salon. Luckily, Valerie managed to rescue James's favorite teddy bear before he became a victim as well.

After that day, those long sorrowful hours of tears, she seemed to have dealt with the emotions. Or, potentially, she had locked them all away in a corner of her mind, so as not to worry those around her. Dom knew that trick all too well, wondering how long she could go before the straw that broke the camels back fell once again.

After getting over the hurdle of the first year, things suddenly became much easier for Valerie. She wasn't sure why, or what had brought on the change. She simply just suddenly felt better, like the world could keep spinning, whether Art was with her or not. The worry faded, though, of course, she still had faith. She had nothing but faith and love in Art, and believed that, at some point, he would come back, as he had promised. But she was able to stop herself from wallowing in despair every time a car pulling into the driveway turned out to not be him.

She would have thought that it would be this way in the beginning. After all, Arthur was gone a lot. More or less all the time if she wanted to be honest with herself. Half the time, he had left in the middle of the night, sometimes not even leaving a note to let her know. Those mornings had always been lonely, depressing, even, on occasion, painful. But, at the very least, then she'd been able to get the occasional email, the longest he'd ever been gone had only been three months, and he hadn't left with Interpol nipping at his heels. But she tried her damnedest to be tough. She told Dom she was okay when he asked, she continued her mantra of daily silent prayers that he would be alright, she dreamed of him every night, and she politely refused the occasional offer for a date.

The next seven months drifted by slowly, but gently.

* * *

"Valerie have you seen my-"

"Your keys are on the hook, where you left them Dom."

"Right." He shot a look at the series of little hooks by the door that held as many keys as any one person could need, trying to tie his tie and gulp down coffee at the same time. Valerie had to say, this was probably the first time she had ever seen Dom oversleep. Most days, going to bed was the issue, but today he'd snoozed through his alarm for nearly forty-five minutes, and it was only when Valerie strode by on her way to get Philippa and James up for school that she realized he was still asleep. Hence, he was now in a frazzled rush.

"Are you sure you want to drop them off? I think it'll be easier if you just go right to work and I walk them there, like usual," Valerie said, trying her best to rush the kids into getting ready.

"No, no, I've got it, I go that direction anyway," Dom decided, giving up on the tie and tossing it onto the table, nearly into James' cereal bowl, before turning in a slow circle, looking for something again. "Do you have any idea what I did with the box I had yesterday?"

"I'm pretty sure you put it back in your car."

"Right," He said again, but with less conviction than he had last time, obviously not entirely sure that he had actually done so. However, considering the fact he was now nearly an hour late, he apparently decided to take her word for it, and rushed onward. "James, Philippa, let's go, Dad's running really late…"

"Okay," Philippa agreed sliding off her chair. "Bye Valerie," She added as she headed for the door, James not far behind her.

"Oops, James, don't forget your homework." She scooped up the yellow sheet of basic addition, tucking it into the kindergartener's Batman backpack.

"Thanks Mom." He smiled up at her.

Everything in the house went silently still. Valerie stared back at James' smiling face, Philippa stood in the doorway, looking awkward, and behind her, Dom was literally aghast.

"James-" He started carefully, his lateness all but forgotten, "-Kiddo, Valerie isn't Mom."

"I know," He said, turning to look at his Father with a face that indicated he didn't understand why everyone was in such shock. "She's not really Mom. But isn't she our step-mom? Jacob's Mom left, like ours did, but then a new lady moved in with his Dad, and she was his step-mom. Isn't that what Valerie is now?"

"It's…James, it doesn't always work like that-" Dom cast around awkwardly, clearly not wanting to get into the details, which might be a little much for a five-year old to really understand. He hadn't even gone about explaining that Mal was actually no longer alive, not just mysteriously missing yet. Philippa, in the typical older-sister fashion, simply rolled her eyes at her brother.

"She can't be our Mom," She said, "-because her and Arthur are going to get married and have a bunch of their own kids. She has to be their Mom."

"Well, I don't know about 'a bunch', but she's right James. I'm not your step-mom either, because I'm in love with Arthur," Valerie explained. "Think of me as more like…your auntie or something. Your dad isn't ready to get married again, not yet at least. But when he is, he'll meet a very nice lady, and then you'll have a new Mom."

"But, how come you live here? Shouldn't you live with Arthur?" James asked, confusion written all over his little face.

"Arthur is just taking care of some things," Dom added in, as though thinking that simply mentioning his name was going to fling Valerie into hysterical crying. "As soon as he's done with that, then they'll start living together."

"And maybe get married and maybe have a bunch of kids." Valerie added with a smile, though she could sense it probably looked a little strained. In all reality, it would probably never be that simple. But she could sure hope.

About two hours after this, after Dom had successfully busted into his office approximately and hour and a half late, he called the house phone, where Valerie was just on her way out the door to re-supply her caffeine addiction. She plucked it off the receiver with a chipper:

"Hello?"

"Hey, uhm, sorry, but that box is still in my home office. I don't suppose I could talk you into bringing it over to me? I at least need the files on the Greenhill Project."

"Sure, no problem. I was just heading out before going to the café anyway. Greenhill?" She walked back through the main hallway, popping her head into what had once been a playroom, but since the kids were getting older, and were learning to keep their toys in their rooms, was slowly being converted into a home office for Dom's architecture work, drawings and models perched on the walls and flat surfaces, along with a few leftover dolls or stuffed animals. The box was stuffed halfway under the desk, papers poking out of it where he'd been going through them previously.

"They should be right on top, in a folder."

"Okay…let's see…" Dom was silent for a moment, as she started shifting through the papers, as the folder was not, actually, on the top of the pile.

"Valerie?"

"Yeah?"

"About what James said this morning…"

"It's okay. He's just a kid. I guess I have been here awhile, it makes sense that he'd start wondering about whether I was going to be a permanent addition."

"Are you okay though? I mean, it was kind of weird, him calling you 'Mom', and then about Arthur-"

"Dom, really, it's fine."

"It's nearly been two years."

"Yeah," The single word came out a sigh. "One year, sixth months, two weeks, and four days."

"I'm sure he's okay," Dom quickly tried to amend.

"He is. I hope."

"Arthur's a reliable guy. If he told you he'd come back, he'll be back. He's probably just making sure there are no loose ends."

"That would be an Art thing to do." She agreed, smiling to herself.

"You mean a lot to him, you know."

"I thought you said he never talked about me?"

"That's true. But that's how I know. He was always trying so hard to make sure you never got mixed up in anything, even though he was always thinking about you, probably always wanting to brag about how great you are…he'd never do that for just any girl. He's far too fond of his own neck to risk it unless someone is really important to him."

"You make him sound like such a likable guy," Valerie laughed, a little.

"He can be when he wants to be," Dom said, and she could hear a smile in his voice. "You know, we met Mal at around the same time, and I was actually kind of worried she liked him more than me when I asked her out the first time."

Valerie's eyes drifted to the photo he kept on the desk as he spoke, her hand in the papers stilling. Mal stared back at her, smiling, happy, nothing like the story she'd heard. Given, it was all about Dom's dream version of her. But she failed to see how he could possibly turn something so beautiful into something so utterly destructive.

"Dom, this is kind of a personal question, but…what happened to Mal? Really? Art told me, once, that she died in some kind of accident, something to do with Extraction."

Dom was silent for a long moment, she couldn't even hear his breathing, then he sighed, a rush of static into the phone. She vaguely wondered if he ought to be working instead, and she should stop being so nosy. Before she could tell him to forget the whole thing however, he answered.

"Did he tell you that the police suspected me?"

"No…" The truth shocked her. She could barely picture Dom capable of dream violence, let alone killing someone in the real world.

"That's why the police wanted me, not because of Extraction. It's pretty hard to make charges stick when there usually isn't any real proof. Most people don't even know we were there. Anyway, in…an offhand sort of way, in a completely unintentional way, I suppose I did…kill her."

"How?"

"Inception. It… it worked too well. It was an experiment that went horribly wrong, and when I tried to fix it…well, it got worse. It spread into reality…and in the end, she died by her own hand, but I was the one that forced it."

"You knew that Inception was that dangerous, but you still did again? What if something went wrong again?" Her voice was deceptively calm, but Valerie's emotions were roiling inside. Now that she knew him, she worried about what would have happened to Dom as well, but her primary concern, for obvious reasons, was Arthur. If Dom had potentially put him in danger by trying Inception again, she absolutely would have been on the warpath for his head. She never would have forgiven him if something had happened to prematurely put an end to Art.

"I'm not going to lie. It was a possibility. But I…James and Philippa needed me."

"And I need Arthur. Did that ever occur to you? That the other people on that little venture had families or friends that didn't want to lose them? Just because you had nothing to lose doesn't mean everyone else could toss in the towel. And most of us didn't get a giant corporation to be our new guardian angel."

"I know. I'm sorry," Dom said softly. "I didn't think the job would have the kinds of consequences it did."

"Like with Mal." After the sentence was spoken, she wished she could take it back. That was just too harsh, even to say in such anger as she had. She shouldn't drag her into this, especially not this way.

"You're right. Like with Mal. Look, I screwed up Valerie. I know it, and you can point the finger at me if you want to."

"Sorry. I didn't mean to sound so cruel," Valerie didn't know what else to say. Silence sank down into the phone line once again.

"We'll give him a week." Dom said suddenly.

"What?"

"We'll give Arthur one more week to get here, or at the very least call you. If we get nothing, I'll convince Saito to start a search for him."

"How will you do that?"

"You just let me worry about that. I learned a few embarrassing secrets, Saito will cooperate."

"Doesn't that seem a bit…underhanded?"

"Maybe. But a year and a half is too damn long Valerie. If nothing else, when we find him, we'll say you decided to start dating Eames. That'll have him _running_."

"Okay. He has a week. But Dom, if comes down to Saito having to find him, please don't tell him I'm dating Eames. I'm pretty sure he'd kill one of us. Probably you. Or maybe Eames. I dunno, he wouldn't be happy though."

Dom snickered on the other end. "Alright, fine. No Eames. We'll just tell him to hurry his ass up then. I really am sorry though. I know this is…sort of my fault."

"I think letting me live in your spare room for a year and a half when you didn't even know me pretty well makes up for it."

"Well, I'm glad I did get to know you. You're pretty amazing, Valerie. There aren't a lot of people who can pull through as much as you do, as well as you do. Arthur is probably the single luckiest person I know."

"Thanks Dom. That means a lot. It really does. Oh, hey, I just found the folder you wanted," She added, realizing the stupid thing had been sitting in plain sight, right next to Mal's photo.

"Oh," His tone told her he'd more or less totally forgotten why he was even on the phone to begin with. "Great, just swing by and drop that off on your way to Starbucks, would you?"

"You got it."

Valerie smiled as she set the phone down a few minutes later. She was pretty lucky herself, having Dom around. She may have seemed strong, but really, if she had been made to try and sort through all this on her own, she probably would have gone insane.

* * *

A doorbell ringing was the only sound for several blocks. After the forth or fifth time he pressed the button, a dog down the street got annoyed and began to bark. He pressed it again, partially because there was still no answer, and partially to agitate the obnoxious dog more. Finally, a light turned on in the depths of the house, and a stumbling figure in a baggy robe approached the door. They yanked it open, rubbing a hand across a tired face.

"What the hell? It's three in the morning…" The words came out in a yawn, puffy eyes peering at him from under a mess of blonde hair, standing straight up in some places.

"Sorry. I forgot about the time zones."

"Jesus. Arthur?" For a moment, Dom seemed skeptical that it was actually him. He stared at him through hazy blue eyes, becoming slightly more aware with each passing second. "Arthur," He said again, still sounding quite disbelieving.

"Yeah."

"Where in the hell have you been? I didn't think you meant nearly two freaking years when you said you would be gone for awhile."

"I've been in prison."

"Excuse me?"

"I spent the last eighteen months in a federal prison. Valerie is still here, right? Can I see her?" He peered over Dom's shoulder, trying to decide where precisely she might be. He needed to see her, hold her, touch her, just be in the same room as her, anything. He just needed her.

"Why in the hell were you in prison?"

"If you're going to make me explain first, will you at least invite me in?"

"Oh. Sorry." Dom stepped aside, and Arthur slid into the house. Looked the same as it had the last time he had been here, maybe a little cleaner, but the kids were older now, which could explain it. Dom closed the door behind him, and offered him something to drink, which Arthur, none too politely, declined. The sooner he got the explanation over with the better, because it was all the sooner he got to see her. "So what happened?" Dom questioned, "Valerie said you had Interpol after you, but I didn't think you were going to get caught."

"I didn't get caught, I turned myself in." Dom raised an eyebrow, so Arthur continued. "Valerie was right, the only way to fix it was to get locked up. But I knew Serena, the one chasing us, wasn't the person to go to. So I turned myself in at the Interpol headquarters. Turns out, Serena is anything but a legitimate agent these days. You remember Brian Norton?" Dom shook his head. "I didn't either. Until I looked into Serena's background. We pulled some info from Norton about three years ago, in Seattle. He was an Interpol agent, ironically, Serena's partner and former fiancé, and we were hired to steal the list of embezzlers he was chasing, so that our employer would know which of their spies to hide. Unfortunately, we screwed it up. Norton was already a bit paranoid, but once he realized his dreams were getting invaded, he totally snapped. We spread out through the city, trying to lose him."

"You took his gun and got on a bus," Dom said, nodding. "I took a cab, and we met back in St. Petersburg."

"Yeah. But that's not really what's important. Norton was decommissioned, because he had been compromised. A few weeks later, he commits suicide, and Serena turns into a revenge-crazed psycho, convinced we were the ones to blame for her partner's death. So, in a long-winded plot to avenge her partner, she steals a Dream-share kit that was in the evidence locker, and recruit's the best Extractors she can find, costing herself her career in the process."

"So…she tried to recruit all of us."

"Right. Because according to the rumor mill, we're all the best at what we do, especially since the Fischer Job. Once she realized we were the same people, she figured that we could just destroy each other, and she wouldn't have to get her hands dirty. But, Eames turned it down, Yusuf was never contacted, Araidne was moved before Serena could find her, and we were the Marks. She couldn't find you, because of Saito, and even if she could, she wouldn't have been able to get to you. So instead, she tracked me down. All things considered, it was probably just really unlucky for me that she just so happened to live in Seattle too, not even three blocks away from Valerie. She just had to spot me, one time, and follow me. Once she found the link to me, she fixated, broke her other team members out of jail, and attempted to extract the information she needed to lock me up from Valerie's mind, figuring she would know everything she wanted. Needless to say, it was unsuccessful, and I believe you know the story from that point on."

Dom crossed his arms for a long, thoughtful pause. Looking first at Arthur, then down at the floor, then back up at him, leaning against the table. "So, how did you end up in prison?"

"I was sick of running. Serena was never going to quit. So I went to Interpol, and made them a deal. They'd shorten my sentence for evidence on Serena and her team, assuming I gave Interpol information leading to them. As you know, that's sort of what I do best. They didn't have a lot that could carry over to court, so I managed to whittle it down to three years, factor in my good behavior, and I'm here after a mere eighteen months."

Dom nodded thoughtfully at him, his arms still crossed, giving Arthur an appraising look. "Must mean the world to you, if you're willing to go to prison for her," He said, nodding his head back, towards the hallway, apparently indicating Valerie.

"More than the world Dom."

"And here, I always thought you were way too cynical to fall in love." The former top Extractor dropped his arms, practically falling into a kitchen chair. "She's in the spare room, first door on the left. Do me a favor and don't wake the kids up, okay?"

"Don't worry," Was Arthur's semi-thought out reply, tossed carelessly over his shoulder as he made his way toward the hallway.

"I do have to say, I can see why you fell for her. Valerie's an amazingly easy person to love."

Arthur turned sharply, to find Dom smiling at him in an amused fashion.

"Don't look at me like that. I mean it in the platonic way and you know it," Dom said, as though he was trying very hard not to laugh at Arthur's adverse reaction to his earlier statement. "Besides," He added, fiddling absently with a threadbare placemat, "-that girl is never going to love anyone but you for the rest of her life. She hasn't even _looked_ at anyone else while she was here. You should know that."

"Yeah. Guess I should," Arthur nodded, and Dom shooed him off, toward the hallway.

Arthur suddenly felt nervous, unsure why. It had been a very, very long time. He had a lot of explaining to do. Would she listen? Or was she upset by now? He wasn't even sure what he wanted to say yet. Or whether he wanted to say anything, and just wanted to kiss her first. The door creaked as he opened it, and Arthur cringed, before telling himself he was being silly. He seriously doubted such a small noise bothered anyone but him.

Valerie was snuggled down into the pillow, laying on her side and turned toward the center of the mattress, her arm stretched out flat on the undisturbed side of the bed. She laid the same way when they slept together, against him, a leg and an arm wrapped around him protectively, as though to try and prevent him from ever getting up again. He sat on the edge of the mattress, just absorbing it all for a moment. Everything was finally right with the world again.

"Valerie." He sat a hand lightly on her face, stroking over her hair. Soft as ever. Warm as ever. She moved slightly, eyelashes fluttering, then her entire body tensed as she recognized his voice.

"Is this a dream?" She asked, her voice soft with contained tears. "Please tell me this isn't a dream…" She didn't move, didn't open her eyes, probably praying with all her might.

"It's not a dream. It never has to be a dream again."

Her eyes snapped open, fringed with tears, and she shot up from under the covers, latching onto his neck, a choked sob barely held back. "Art!"

"Miss me?" He asked, wrapping arms around her. He already felt better, just knowing that she was glad to see him.

"Damnit, of course I missed you, idiot!" She flung herself back suddenly, hands holding his jaw, her eyes darting around his face, before skimming over the rest of him. "I mean…Jesus. Are you okay Art? Did everything go-" She interrupted herself, pausing long enough to press her lips on his, a quick parody of a kiss, and then she sat back again, eyes still searching. "I mean, with Serena, what happened? I was so worried, I was really freaking worried! It's been forever, Art! Are you really okay?" She flung arms around his shoulders, and clung tightly.

"I'm in one piece." He assured, running hands over her back, just re-learning the feel of her. It seemed, somehow, that she would have changed over their time apart. He didn't really know how, he had just expected…something to be different. But everything about her was exactly how he remembered it, except for, obviously, her new strawberry-blonde locks. "I like your hair this way," He stated randomly, fluffing the shoulder-length bob.

"Suppose that's good, because I think it will be awhile before I get it to go back to how it was," Valerie laughed in his ear. She peeled her head off his shoulder, and simply looked at him for a few moments, then snuggled her face back into the crook of his neck. "God I missed you. What happened? Why didn't you call or write, or something?"

"They don't like outgoing mail in maximum security."

"Maximum-…Did you get _arrested_?" Bright green eyes met his, filled with questions.

"Not exactly. It's a long story."

"Tell me everything," Valerie insisted.

* * *

"…and it turns out, the badge you found on Serena was about two years expired. But now, she and her team are all in custody, in her case, getting help."

Valerie nodded, taking the whole story Art had told her in, tucked up against him, wrapped up in his arms while they leaned against the headboard together. Her fingers wound around his hand, pulling it towards her, and cuddling his arm against her neck. He could feel her pulse beating, a steady rhythm, it soothed him exponentially.

"I'm sorry."

"What about?"

"Art, you had to go to prison. That's horrible."

"It's not nearly as bad as they make it seem in movies. Boring, but they didn't torture me or anything. Most of the time we were just left to amuse ourselves."

"But it was still prison."

"Yeah, well, it wasn't bad. And now, I'm officially a law-abiding, fully reformed citizen," He shrugged, leaning his head to press his face into her hair. Garnier. She truly was a creature of habit, and did he ever love it.

"Oh really?" She asked mildly, a smile in her voice, turning her head slightly, trying to look at him, but he was nestled quite comfortably at the nape of her neck.

"Mhm," Was his mumbled confirmation. "And you know what that means, don't you?"

"No, I don't," She confessed.

"It means, my dearest Valerie, that we get to be normal people. I may be an ex-con, but now I don't have to worry about getting caught. No more secrets, no more half-truths, no more hiding, I can tell you everything. I'm a regular guy now, we can live together, go out in public together, we can get married, we can do whatever you want, and we don't have to worry even the tiniest bit about cops anymore."

"Really?" The hope in her voice was thinly veiled, she seemed to think he was kidding. This, however, was something he would never joke about.

"Really," He nodded. "I never have to keep secrets from you ever again."

"Art, this is great!" She pulled away from him, turning so that she sat on her knees facing him. "Then…then you've got to tell me everything! There are so many things that I still don't know about you. I want to know your whole name, I want to know where you grew up, and-"

"Let's start at the beginning," Arthur suggested, "-that way we don't miss anything."

"Right. The beginning." Valerie nodded with a smile. "I want to know everything."

"Well, I was born in New York…"

* * *

"You sure you want to do this?"

"Art, this had to happen sooner or later, right? I'm glad you're finally going to meet my family though." Valerie laughed, while Arthur turned the car into her childhood driveway, fidgeting nervously, his fingers tapping the steering wheel rapidly. "It's okay, really, they'll all love you."

"What should we tell them first?"

"Well, I'd suggest we go with the obvious one," Valerie shrugged, as her house appeared through the trees. She smiled widely at the thought of seeing her Mother and Father again, after what felt like ages. Not to mention, Sophie was finally home as well, her A/A fully completed. With Danielle flying in tomorrow, it was a whole Sinclaire reunion. Plus, a couple of new additions. She glanced first at Arthur, who seemed to be on the verge of freaking out, and then down to her four-month baby belly, AKA: "the obvious one". The less obvious was evidenced by the engagement ring sitting pretty around her finger. Her Mother was likely going to throw a fit at both, but she knew her father and sisters were absolutely going to love Art, and her Mother would, just as soon as she got over the shock, and that they were all going to be happy with the fact that a little one was on the way. She reached across the car to set her hand on Art's knee. "Stop worrying. I already told them a little about you, so they've got the gist of things. And I already told Sophie and Danielle that I'm pregnant. My Mom might faint, but that's okay, she'll get over it."

"What about your Father?" He cast her a curious eye.

"He'll like you, and he'll be fine, just so long as you don't plan to leave me anytime soon."

"I'll never leave either of you," he spoke to her, but set his hand on the growing bump that would, in about five more months, be their child. "Any kicking?"

"No. Still got a couple of months on that one, Art." Valerie smiled, laying her hand next to his. His reaction to her pregnancy was sort of like a kid waiting on a long-ways-away Christmas. He'd asked whether there was kicking at least once a week for the last two months. "So glad I realized before we bought the dress though, could you imagine trying to fit into it now? I'm huge!"

"You're beautiful."

"…Are you going to think that when I look like a whale?"

"You won't look like a whale. You'll be gorgeous," Arthur insisted, leaning over to kiss her ear.

"I'm going to hold you to that. You better be able to still say that with total sincerity in five months when I'm in labor and breaking your hand."

"I'll make sure it's my left."

"You're so terrible!"

Before Arthur could offer her another witty remark however, Sophie tore out of the front door of the old farm-house, ran through the yard, and very nearly ripped open the door of the rental car.

"Hello baby!" She practically squealed, and Valerie, for a moment, thought that maybe Sophie was simply being overly affectionate towards her sister. That was before she grabbed both sides of her tummy, and leaned in close, clearly talking to her stomach instead. "I'm going to be your Auntie Sophie! Oh my god! Val, this is so freaking exciting!" She stared up at her, and then Sophie's eyes darted over Valerie's shoulder.

"Hi," Art said awkwardly, Sophie staring silently at him, scrutinizing him.

"Sophie, this is Arthur. My fiancé. Stop being rude," Valerie interjected into the quiet.

Her sister looked between the two of them, and then broke into a wide, clownish, grin. "You two are going to have the fucking cutest babies."

"Sophie! They can hear you at this age you know!"

"Oops. Sorry baby…" Sophie cooed at Valerie's tummy, then took a hand off her primary interest, and stretched it over to Arthur. "Hi. I'm Sophie, the crazy one."

"Nice to meet you…" Art began, still sounding terribly awkward, but Sophie only shook his hand for about a second, and then she danced off, back toward the house.

"Dad! Come meet your first grandbaby! And also your son-in-law!"

Valerie laughed, Art looked traumatized. "Ready to meet the rest of them?"

"Ready as I'll ever be I suppose."

"Hey, you better get used to them. They're your family now too. You want me, you get the whole package. Including the battle-ax mother-in-law."

"I'm willing to pay that price. Just so long as your mother isn't breathing down my neck the rest of my life."

"Probably only on holidays, dollface." Valerie leaned in and kissed him quickly, just as her Mother and Father began to march towards them, her father with an easy grin, her Mother looking somewhere between rage and tears. Art got out first, circling the car to help Valerie, even though she was still fairly mobile at this stage, she appreciated the gesture.

"Mom, Dad, this is Arthur. Arthur, this is going to be our family."

And wasn't love just the grandest thing? She glanced over at Art, shaking hands with her Father, and in his other hand, she could see his fingers loosely holding his die, absently shuffling it around.

-Fin.

* * *

Author's note: Well. There it is. There it all is. It's finally complete, so, now it's strictly for you all. This is the first thing I've finished in a long while, so I feel very accomplished at the moment. As to the ending, there are a few things I suppose, that should still be said. First, I decided not to make up a last name for Arthur, just for the sake of not giving him something stupid. Which I probably would have done. Second, I realize it's not super conclusive. That's because I feel that's the way an Inception fic should be. That's what it's all about, isn't it? So yeah. Thanks again to everyone who has supported this, and I apologize if I'm breaking anyone's heart ending it, but all good things must come to an end, or so the cliche goes. Thanks for reading. :)


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